


Life Is More Fun As A Cat Thief

by CatChan



Series: Cats, Birds, Bats... And freaking interdimentional travels! [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Catlad - Freeform, Damian is prideful, Drawings, Field Surgery, Future Fic, Grown!Damian, Jewelry, M/M, Pre-Reboot, Snapshots, Tim Drake is Catlad, Unrequited Love, and decisive, and has a temper, fight, or maybe not, platonic cuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatChan/pseuds/CatChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twice upon a time, a bird got sloppy around a cat and was dragged back home as a stolen good.</p>
<p>Neither of them regretted it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He shed his wings and grew a tail.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm. So... If you are a subscriber (I know I have few, thank you guys, you're my life), I am sorry not only isn't it a continuation of any of my WIPs, but it's an entirely different fandom on top of it. I didn't forget my other stories, I'll get back to them as soon as the Marvel bug bites me again.
> 
> I kind of got sucked into DC, though my interest is restricted around the Robins, which are pretty much the only characters in DC I have really strong feelings about. I like other heroes, sure... As long as it's in a story with a connection to the bat-family.
> 
> This story will have explicit Tim/Damian in it... Which should be too close to incest for my comfort, but they didn't meet each other until Damian was 11 and Tim was 16, and then stayed estranged for about six years. They don't really consider each-other brothers, apart from their mutual connexion to Dick and Bruce.
> 
> This is almost a side-story to my future Nano fic... (That is another monster... I'll try to prune it down in the two upcoming months so I can actually complete it in 50 000 words, unlike my previous NaNo stories...*glances uneasily at the overflowing WIPs*) I see it being three chapters long... Two of them being porn, but it can still change before then.

Tim had been in the habit of saying "I'm alright" until the edge of breakdown since he was a kid.

This time, though, he was noticeably not alright.

 

Hadn't been since he first met his evil future self with the Titans, actually.

It had been concealable, then.

 

Six years and four other prophecies of his future villainy later, he was walking the line between suicide and mental breakdown. He liked to think he'd opt for suicide before he let himself be sucked into his own darkness. He wasn't sure, though.

And Dick might "save" him again. Or if he didn't, he would feel so guilty... And Tim loved his oldest brother, didn't want to break his heart.

 

Tim knew, that had Bruce been just a little more "talk about your feelings" inclined, or if his problems didn't stem from secrets too deep to share with anyone, he'd be benched from the field and have a weekly appointment with a therapist scheduled.

Bruce wasn't, and the secrets were there, and Tim didn't listen to his adoptive father anymore anyway.

So on this day he had gone out on patrol.

 

And he'd been too distracted by the murky waters of his slipping morality while fighting too good an opponent.

And Selina was too prideful to forgive such an offense as Tim's blatant distraction without demanding explanations.

 

And Tim had finally been close enough to the edge of breakdown to stop answering "I'm alright".

And Selina wasn't a Family member who would feel guilty of their inaction upon hearing his griefs.

And she knew him as Red Robin, the former Robin, telling her about things that happened in the cape wasn't endangering his secrets.

 

When he started out telling her about his accidental visit to the future, he was flat on his back, Catwoman crouched over him, holding her whip against his throat in a blatant threat.

He told her everything, including Kon and Bart's deaths, the second invasion of the evil future selves, his breakup with Cassie, the anti life equation, Bruce's death, Dick replacing him as Robin for the demon brat, everyone's refusal to listen to him saying Bruce wasn't dead, Pru and her team, the council of Spiders, Tam, Ra's Al Ghul naming him his heir, the genocidal machine saying he'd be by his side, captain boomerang, going back to the Teen Titans, the team disbanding once again... And finally the court of owls trying to blackmail him into becoming their new Talon, all "taken care of", of course, but the stress, the pressure of the whole world on his shoulders, the temptation to let his morality skid out to be more effective in protecting the worthy ones... He said he was exhausted and terrified.

He told her about how each time he stepped over a rooftop ledge, he wondered if he should really fire his grapple, and how lately he took 0.5 more seconds to press the trigger each time.

 

She was holding him in her arms by the end of his tale.

 

She said she could help him.

 

She kidnapped him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Catlad stood by his mentor on the ledge of another roof, back in France again, but not in Paris anymore... In what would have been called a medium city in the States but was considered the big town there. Not the place where he'd expect to find a money launderer. Which should be exactly why he shouldn't be surprised.

 

It was the first time Catwoman took him along, after weeks of yelling and arguing philosophy and debts and guilt and duties.

 

Given the choice to die or to become a villain, Tim had, he now understood, more or less actively been seeking his own death.

 

Selina had offered him the alternative to become a minor villain.

 

One that didn't harm any innocents.

 

This was his test performance. Just a little burglary, committed against a criminal. It wasn't justice, was still a theft.

 

Tim blood still sang just as loud as when he was planning the most daring of rescues with the Teen Titans.

 

Selina glanced at him appraisingly, wordlessly asking if he still was good to go.

 

Tim smiled his new Catlad smile, mysterious and playful, copied on Catwoman's own, the same one she used to respond before leaping off.

 

 

 

 

They encountered resistance.

 

Tim smiled as he slashed and smashed, and whipped.

The game was still so fun, and this time, he wasn't risking much. Catwoman was good, he didn't need to protect her, there wasn't risk for civilian collaterals, and what they were after wasn't sentient so there wasn't any urgency on reaching it, or even protecting it.

 

Catlad kicked another henchman in the face, feeling his nose and cheekbone break on impact, then whipped his garrote to trip up the idiot trying to sneak up on Selina, before clawing at another goon with his other hand.

The goon broke off clutching at his lacerated biceps and spewing a chant of swears in French (it was kind of fascinating, how percussive yet rhythmic and singing slurs were in that language), and Tim elbowed him in the neck for good measure before slinking up to Selina with that hip sway he was well in the way of mastering.

 

He smiled, an enjoyable part of this new persona, as he flicked blood off his claws, still instinctively surveying the gravity of his opponent injuries, but finding nothing life-threatening (though these guys were a little more broken than Bruce would generally have been happy with... Tim felt no guilt, though, he was even kind of vindictively happy with his work, it was a pretty great feeling), then raised his brow at Selina beneath his cat-eared bandanna goggles. "So, Just in and out, easy mark for my first break in? I am relieved, I was afraid I'd end up getting bored tonight."

 

She smiled back, brushed his cheek. "Oh, Kitty, with the marks you favor it'll always be at least a little rough. But wait until we get the bounty before grading the night."

 

She walked on a fallen opponent on her way to the safe. Tim chuckled and followed, bouncing his steps and 'accidentally' stepping on a hand.

 

 

 

 

Tim hadn't ever cared much for jewelry before.

 

But when Selina took the silver and ruby new art designer necklace out of her pouch that night and clasped it around his neck, then spun him in front of the mirror with a praise of how pretty his first loot looked on him, he started understanding her fixation.

 

Red definitely was his color, and the vanity Selina was helping him cultivate left him admit that he did like this look on himself. He was way more pretty than handsome, most of the time. And shiny decoration did add something. Something that his fledging bi awareness told him meant he would 'hit that'.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Theodoric, "Theo" Durand, laughed at his host's bad joke, running a hand up his arm with a smile and a compliment while his aunt Celia pursed her lips unhappily at his handiness. The boy ignored her and leaned further in his mark's personal space, blinking up shyly at him while he asked exactly how big the land around the castle was.

 

The man smiled at him, and declared the best place to see the grounds was from the master bedroom's balcony.

 

Tim feigned disappointment, in tune with his character, as he refused to intrude on his host privacy. The rich embezzler laughed and assured him he was more than welcome in his privacy.

 

Selina huffed in faked annoyance and stormed out. Theo looked after her sadly and declared she'd get over it if she really liked him, then implied he didn't want to think about it right then. Didn't want to think at all.

 

His mark cooed at him and hugged him.

 

 

 

 

It wasn't the first time he got fucked by a man, Tim was now more than aware of his looks and knew how to flirt people up. It WAS his first honey-trap, though, and it was FUN. He moaned and yelled and sobbed and reveled in his ulterior motives, on the fact that he was playing that man that didn't even suspect anything.

 

Tim whined at his lover when they were done, he licked at his face playfully while smiling softly from the praises, laid on top of him and dozed lightly until the 'middle of the night repeat' dreaming of Selina sneaking around the corridors while people thought she was pouting in her room.

He wondered which one of them would win the thieving competition. There were quite a few valuable items in that bedroom that Tim planned on nicking when his bedmate was sleeping off his second orgasm. (With a little help from drugs, of course.)

 

Tim smiled his Catlad smile in the dark room, then pulled his Theo persona on and stretched his back, moaning at the pops of his spine then wriggling wantonly against the slowly awakening form beneath him.

Tonight was going to be wonderful.

At least for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The world was ending, again, and the Cat duo made use of Tim's heroic knowledge to teleport to the JLA headquarters.

 

They might be in the gray of morality, but they still needed for there to be a world to enjoy themselves.

 

Or so Tim rationalized his inability to ignore so much suffering to Selina.

She grouched, but allowed the point.

Tim felt conflicted on whether he should feel warmed or annoyed at her concern for his mental health.

 

They ported unannounced in on the emergency war council (Tim's access codes didn't work anymore but he still was an incredible hacker).

 

They found themselves at weapon-point (or metapower-point) within instants. Selina tensed, but Tim just smirked, knowing these heroes never killed, he popped out a hip and drawled an unimpressed "really?" at his former colleagues, eyes lingering over Batman and Nightwing with insistence.

Tim knew they at least suspected he was Catlad

 

There was a moment of stillness.

 

"Okay, maybe you were right, Catwoman, They don't seem to want our help. I did think killer alien invasion would help loosen their uptightness somewhat..."

 

Selina took his lead. "Told you, Kitty, that stick is shoved in way too firmly up there, even a full bottle of lube couldn't ease it out."

 

Tim scrunched his face up. "EWW, MOM! We talked about over-sharing our sex lives!"

 

Selina laughed. "Oh, right. Only between two and four in the morning and after two glasses of wine, wasn't it?"

 

Most hostility had fled the room when innuendos had started flying, and Tim saw some shocked faces and some looked more annoyed about the silly interlude in the admittedly dire situation. Tim sniffed. "And NEVER about Batman." There, distraction set, most heads turned to Bruce, then back to Selina, then back again.

Dick snickered.

Tim bounced forward, ignoring the occasional weapon still trained in his general direction.

"Anyway. You can't afford not to use us, we're already here, we already know your secrets, and we're as interested as you are in keeping our world in one piece... And I'm great at strategy and team coordination. Aren't I, B?"

 

The focus was back on him again, along with Batman, and Selina let him steal the spotlight, her cat-smile firmly in place and pride radiating off her almost visibly. Tim feigned not to notice the silence in the room as he reached for the holoscreens taking stock of the strategical situation and starting to look through the details.

He manipulated the stats for about ten seconds before looking back up curiously at his former mentor, tilting his head sideway and shifting his weight on his other hip.

 

"Red Rob..." Bruce started.

 

"Nah." Tim cut him off sharply. "Red Robin's dead." He frowned. "Poor guy jumped off a building and 'forgot to use his grapple gun'."

 

There was a collective breath intake around the room, except for the few new ones who hadn't known him.

In the corner of his eye, Tim saw Kon hunching down, ready to jump him and demand answers, he saw Cassie grab his arm to stop him, saw Dick rear back, and Cass tilt her head in confusion already knowing it was him from his body language.

 

Tim sighed, and, careful not to scratch his own face with his gloves' claws, tugged his scarf down his chin and his goggled hood up his head. "I'm Catlad, now, get your code-names straight, Bats."

Then Tim hopped up on the conference table, crossed his legs and pointed out a weak point in the alien's defenses.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim smirked at his mirror admiring himself while he slowly flexed his lower-back muscles this way and that, making his brand new prothesised tail sway and curl, he gave himself a couple of weeks before he could fake-emote with this tail on automatic. Next step was the cat ears. And making retractable claws.

 

... And maybe propositioning Kon. Again. Maybe this time Superboy wouldn't freak out on him because last time he slept with a best friend it ended up in a disaster.

 

Tim sighed and shelved the idea. He had to give more time to his former Titan team to get over his alignment change. They would understand. Eventually. They had also seen the future selves.

 

He slumped, unhappy at his train of thoughts, and decided to inventory his jewel collection again to lift his spirits back up.

 

With a new smile, he stood and shucked his shirt off, humming to himself and making his tail sway as he entered the code to his safe.

 

Time for some quality me time.

 

Then he'd hit a club and seduce a blow-job out of someone pretty.

 

Then maybe give one of his own.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Catlad crouched by Catwoman, admiring Gotham in the night.

 

He had missed it, still, and said as much to Selina, wondering if that was another symptom of folly. She laughed and tugged his cat ear fondly.

 

He flicked it in feigned annoyance as soon as she let go and she laughed some more.

 

They were interrupted by a feminine cry and both hurried over.

There was no hesitation from either of them when they saw the thug holding a switchblade to that woman's face while his other hand felt about her crotch. Selina hated rapists as much as he did.

 

 

 

 

Tim kicked at the crumpled rapist, wondering if castration fell under 'life-threatening injury' (probably... Shame) while Catwoman held the victim. He knew better than to approach her right now. He was a man, albeit a young one, he might spook her

 

There was a movement in the shadow, and Tim fell into a fighting stance, smiling at the idea of beating whatever scumbag was working with the lowlife at his feet.

 

He relaxed as a pretty characteristic "Tt" rang out.

No matter how much Tim and Damian didn't get along, Robin currently wasn't a threat to the Cats or to the recovering woman.

 

Tim smirked. "Out alone, babybird? Where are your adults?"

 

The brat got out into the light...

The... Wow. Now sixteen years old brat.

Tim might as well start calling him a teenager.

 

Damian stepped forth a few more steps. He was as tall as Tim, now. "Elsewhere." He shrugged. "Which is as well."

With a cruel smile, Robin bent over the whimpering man on the ground and yanked both his arms out of their sockets.

He stood back up, and smiled grimly. "That way I can pretend you were the ones who did that"

 

Tim stared for a couple of seconds before smiling his cat-smile. "I can get behind that. I think I could even set that and do it again myself to add credence to your claim."

 

Robin glanced at him cautiously, but not openly hostile. His mouth bent into the slightest of smiles and he twitched his shoulders. "This isn't strictly necessary. Even Father only grumbles at maiming rapist for the spirit of it, plausible deniability will suffice. But if you plan on insisting, by all means, proceed."

 

Tim recognized that as the truce it was. "Hmm. It's probably better that I don't. I might forget caution and accidentally nick him up seriously." He clicked his claws together to illustrate his point.

 

Damian started shrugging, ignoring the gasps at their feet, but then stopped and brought a hand to his ear.

He glanced at Tim, then answered his comm. "Saw them too. I don't think they're hostile... At least not to us." He made a hand shooing gesture at Tim and Selina. "Well, they fled, and I had an assault victim to look after... No... Because there are technically two victims, but you do know how I feel about calling perps victims when they had that coming at them..." Damian frowned more emphatically and glared at Tim and Selina.

"I'm calling the cops on the perp and escorting the lady home, is what I'm planning, If YOU plan to play cat and mouse..."

 

Tim smiled at Selina as they disappeared in the night. So maybe babybat wasn't all that bad.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Oh, that's going to feel rough tomorrow morning." Tim winced, surveying Robin's bruising face.

 

Damian winced as he sat up, probably feeling a dozen other bruises all along his torso and legs. "Well, rough nights, rough mornings... Only boring people don't have those."

 

Tim froze. Was the batbrat actually flirting?

Only one way to know. "Rough is only interesting when it's done with skills."

 

Damian pulled a face at him, bent a knee up and tilted his head sideways. "Are you questioning my skills, Catboy?"

 

Oh, god. He was flirting.

Bruce would be going nuts if he heard that.

Tim smirked.

"Neverrr..." Tim purred, bending over the seventeen years old to ruffle his hair, enjoying the rare feeling of Damian's head being lower than his. "Only theirs." He swiped his hand demonstratively at their fallen opponents then smiled. "I think you could find infinitely more interesting playmates, Birdboy. Now back home you go before your father kills me for keeping you up all night!"

 

Tim smirked as Damian turned red.

 

If the ninja teen wanted to play that game with him, he'd need to seriously step up his game.

 

Tim bounced away, picked up the item he'd been coveting when he ran into Damian, then readied his whip-garrote for his getaway while Robin reported his catch to the police.

 

He stopped upon hearing the teen call his codename. "Catlad... Thank you for the assist tonight. This would have taken longer without you."

 

Of course. God forbid the kid admitted to ever needing help. But, well. "You're welcome, Robin, I'd miss your annoying face if you went and got yourself killed... Again."

 

Tim smiled at the vigilante's outraged expression.

 

Needling that kid would probably become his favorite pastime.

 


	2. And He Thought His Family Was Complicated BEFORE...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to post this chapter way before now, but my working file got corrupted and I lost pretty much this whole exact chapter (about a week of work at the time), and I still remembered it, sure, and the second writing helped having a (I think) better overal flow, but I was still pretty upset and depressed about it, so I took a very long time to type it again.
> 
> I was planning to have this finished before the start of the NaNo... I failed. So you can now expect faster updates, because I plan to win the NaNo, and it means 1667 words a day, I can't slack off like I have been so far. I'll get around to creating the series this work is part of as soon as I can, I plan to make a crossover crackfic between this world and Young Justice animated, and maybe the events of this fic from Damian's POV...
> 
> Oh, BTW, That chapter is NSFW from about halfway down. ;)  
> (On the other hand, I still haven't had any job where reading fanfics on the clock was a good idea, so...)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Being in a somewhat good relationship with the bats meant a few things.

 

It meant that Dick would sometimes arbitrarily hug the life out of him before flipping away with a show-off leap.

 

It meant that Steph would sometimes track him down and rant for hours because something annoyed her.

 

It meant he would sometimes tag one of the birds with a flash drive containing intel on something he found suspicious during one of his break-ins for Bruce to take over.

 

It meant Babs sometimes snapchated him some ridiculous picture of someone he knew from the hero community, or the location of an assault near him.

(People now knew that the Cats in town hated rapists as much as Bats did, but didn't stay their hand to avoid getting in troubles with the GCPD, some of them surrendered even faster than Tim had witnessed with Bruce at his most snarling.)

 

It meant winding Damian up and driving him around in circles as the youngest bat tried to be more sensual than Tim, to one-up him at flirting.

(Damian wasn't bad at it, he was even pretty damn good at the whole seduction game, but Tim was just way above his league... And smugly unashamed about it, too.)

 

It meant occasionally following Jason around when he got in one of his darkest moods to just have guard his back while the most aggressive of the ex-robins beat the most awful of human waste (mostly pedophiles or human traffickers) to a pulp.

 

It also sometimes tagging along with Damian and Jason (the only ones who thought letting Tim snitch a bag full of -dirty- cash after they beat up the bad guys wasn't harming anything) to check out the suspicious plate-less van, and volunteering to get captured by a human trafficking ring. (Tim still wasn't sure how these two birds had gotten companionable, Jason said that it was the common death experience that brought them closer, Damian said "Tt" or "mind your own business, Drake".)

 

 

 

 

So, case in point: about twenty fallen foes, plus Robin with a dislocated shoulder (that Tim helped him set in a more or less medically appropriate fashion instead of slamming it in against a wall like the Demon Brat seemed intent to), plus Red Hood with a bullet in the gut, plus thirteen freshly abducted hostages to escort back to safety, plus heavy baddies reinforcement two minutes out, plus a headquarters' location to discover because there was no intel anywhere on that particular ring, equals Catlad pickpocketing Robin's emergency beacon and volunteering to be the bait.

(Selina was going to be very mad at him. On the other hand: human traffickers. Even she got out of her way to bust those.)

 

As a hero, being the kind of person who'd sacrifice themselves to bait a trap or buy an injured team-mate some time, was considered brave and reckless, and usually made you team leader.

As a thief, it was considered stupid and suicidal and got you a kind of social ostracism that still let you in for large busts so that if someone needed to die tonight, better you than me.

Tim didn't know what to think of that one, except that thieves made more sense.

 

Damian and Jay were heroes, though.

They protested Tim's plan mostly for show and then left, with a "don't you dare die while covering for me, pussycat!" (thank you, Jason) and a "You'd better stay alive, Catlad." (love you too, Damian...)

 

Tim didn't take orders well, but he guessed he could make an exception just for that once.

 

 

 

 

The fight was intense, his opponents frankly not overly skilled, but very numerous, forcing him to be everywhere at once, the firearms all around him forcing him to sift around quickly so they wouldn't fire at him for fear of hurting their own.

 

He had already weathered one almost impossible fight in the night, and it wasn't like he hadn't had worse as a vigilante, but one of the things Selina was adamant on was to "be smart and know when to retreat, you pigheaded dumb-ass", so he was a little out of practice on the 'fighting past his point of collapse' thing.

As it turns out, it's kind of like riding a bike. You get it back fairly quickly(, after you've fallen on your face twice).

 

He would have liked to be able to say that he got caught intentionally.

Better for the ego, and all that.

Truthfully, he would have been able to flee, had he wanted to, but winning just hadn't been in the cards.

 

Someone else (particularly brave... or particularly stupid) tried to grab him by his tail again, and discovered that the taser charges had been depleted by the ten other persons who tried that before and were still lying in a heap somewhere.

Tim had the time to make a mental note that he should see to up the taser charge and gradually reduce the surges when the juice ran low so no other lucky idiot could pull that one on him and not even get shocked at all, before said goon decided to plant his boot at Catlad's lower back and yanked his tail out of it's robotized socket.

 

Strictly speaking, it didn't hurt, there was no pain receptors in a robotized prosthetic. But the tail was anchored somewhere, 'somewhere' being Tim's body, his waist, thighs and spine, to be exact, and yanking his tail out thanks to a foot braced above it's base meant all the energy transmitted right into his thighs until the socket joint gave.

 

Tim fell to his knees from the imbalance, and that was where things began going to shit.

 

He had no backup, after all, and had just been forced to stay stationary for way too long.

 

 

 

 

Batman busted through the window into the (very nice, privately owned, not at all suspicious) hotel (some villain weren't complete morons who systematically chose old decrepit warehouse as HQ... Tim was surprised too).

 

Tim looked up at him through his half swollen eyelids and offered him a bloody toothed grin.

 

Nightwing, Robin and Catwoman landed right after the Bat.

 

All of a sudden, no one in the conference hall turned torture room was looking at Tim.

 

A very welcome reprieve, really, he'd been the subject of way too much attention in the past two hours.

 

But also very stupid.

Handcuffs weren't known to be hard to pick, after all.

And these idiots hadn't looked for wires when 'disarming' him.

 

Twenty seconds, and Tim's hands were free, he bent in half, and uncuffed his feet too in four seconds each (good thing the bats and cat were very distracting, Tim hated to show his back to enemies.

 

Two more seconds and the guy who'd been working him over got a knee in the groin.

Tim also slammed his head hard into the seat of the torture chair, just to be even.

 

Didn't bother to admire his handiwork, and instead jumped around the fray for his next target.

(The target listing had been ready for twenty whole minutes, you needed something to focus and anchor your mind on when tortured.)

 

The henchman who had cut off Tim's claws out of his gloves and boots stumbled over and backward at Tim's leg swipe, and Catlad helped him tip over with a palm strike to the jaw, then an elbow to the stomach to round it up.

 

People were suddenly remembering Catlad's presence, so he also bent an elbow backward (not his) and threw a thug like a bowling ball at the cluster around Robin, before producing two lock-picks from their hiding spots (idiots couldn't even frisk someone up properly), and embedding them in the thighs of the guy who'd broken his tail (Tim liked that tail).

 

Catlad then moved on to strangling the guy who thought rape threats were a good intimidation technique (with his legs, Black-Widow style, because Tim also had a sense of humor).

 

Unluckily, Batman apprehended the ringleader (the whole reason Tim had to wait so long before signaling for help was because he wasn't sure that that asshole was present in the building until he came to gloat at his prisoner,) before Tim could do something creatively horrible to him.

He made up by grabbing another muscle up, tripping them and smashing their head down on the ground by a handful of hair, but it just didn't feel the same.

 

For their parts, Robin was starting to tie up unconscious enemies, Nightwing delivered a high-kick to the last henchman standing (a somersaulted high-kick, to be precise), Batman was intimidating every bit of Intel he could from scumbag in chief, and Catwoman was...

Shit, walking right up to Tim.

 

Tim looked at her with his best sheepish, apologetic expression.

 

She didn't even slow down to berate him and went straight to ripping Tim's Catlad suit open.

As in unmaking the hooks inside the ribbed seams and removing the front and side panels of his torso.

Tim winced as she coldly took in the mess that was his upper-body and started prodding his bruises to help catalog his injuries.

 

He was so used to the total lack of body shame, (even more so than as a bat affiliate,) that he didn't even react to the unclothing.

 

That is until he caught Damian staring at him, eyes skipping from his torso to his crotch-piece... That was also removable, nice detective skills, Robin.

 

Tim locked eyes with the bird next time his gaze strayed up to his face, licked his lips and winked.

 

Robin turned almost as red as his tunic and Tim chuckled, until his ribs reminded him that moving was not something they actually wanted to do right now.

 

Selina glanced up at him at his hiss, then turned to see Damian still very pink and trying to look busy.

 

She looked at Tim with a raised eyebrow. "How did you rile him up that time?"

 

Tim smirked. "He did it all on his own, I swear, not my fault he assumed that the removable inseam was for sex and not to be able to go to the toilet without removing the top part."

 

Selina snorted. "Like you can lie to me. I know for a fact that you did use it to have sex in full costume at least once."

 

Tim frowned. "Which once, and how do you know?"

 

"Catman told me."

 

Tim made a face, wondering what prompted the other cat-themed villain to go and inform Tim's almost step-mother that they had sex while in costume. "Can you blame me?"

 

Selina raised her brow. "For deciding you wanted to sex him up? Definitely not. For the fact that I didn't sleep with him once I knew you were there? Well, I guess I blame him more than you. ... At least tell me you don't intend to sleep with Batman, I want to keep being able to jump his bones."

 

Tim made a horrified face at the mere thought of... "Eww! He's my adoptive father! Seriously, don't even joke about that."

 

Selina got that twinkle in her eye that meant she thought teasing Tim with her sexual exploits was a good revenge for worrying her half to death, and most of the Bats were having the standard 'train-wreck' reaction where they looked like they'd like nothing more than to ignore the Cats' conversation but were still way too fascinated to stop eavesdropping. Which meant that it was time to distract and misdirect. "Now Nightwing..."

 

Dick stumbled over his own feet, Damian glared at his (usually much more gracious) brother and Bruce stayed mostly motionless, Selina saw it all, of course and decided that playing with the batboys was more pressing than making Tim regret his life-choices. "Yes, I know, it's his ass, isn't it? I almost got there, too."

 

So okay still regretting his life-choices, but at least the Bats were more disturbed than him... Which meant... "What stopped you? Forgot the strap-on at home?"

 

Dick didn't stumble that time but he was holding himself very stiffly, Bruce fidgeted, but still tried to look like he wasn't hearing them, and Damian looked a mix of embarrassed, amused, aroused, disgusted and angry.

(Teenage hormones had a way to make a mess of boys' emotions, Tim almost sympathized.)

 

Selina was laughing like a maniac inside, Tim could see it in her eyes, but on the outside, she just pouted and shrugged. "That, and no crotch-trap, and there was a diamond. Also, Nightwing was kind of a dick."

 

Tim huffed a controlled belly laugh at the nice inside joke. (How sad was it that he had injured his ribs enough times to have mastered the art of laughing with a cracked one?) "Well, of course, I mean, if you're not looking for a dick, you usually turn to women. That's what I do."

 

Selina smirked. "Your matchmaking attempts are anything but subtle, Kitty. Harley, Ivy and I aren't in a polyamourous relationship, and we aren't looking to be."

 

 

 

 

On his way back to be checked over by Alfred, Tim blew a gasket at Bruce, airing the nasty 'well, it was Selina who put me on suicide watch, not you' that had been lingering between them for way too long.

 

It was Bruce's fault too, he did not have the privilege of nitpicking Tim's techniques, methods or morals since his parenting (or lack thereof) almost drove Tim to insanity.

 

Damian was witness to the explosion (the Batmobile had three seats... Poor kid had nowhere to duck out to) and he looked impressed and frightened (and was there a third half of aroused in there?) at Tim's yelling.

 

It all made the check up itself really awkward, and Tim ran away as soon as Selina showed up with a likely getaway vehicle.

(He'd apologize about leaving her stranded at the manor by buying her a spa day. He doubted it was the thing she'd be the most mad about though, she did tend to sleep with Bruce whenever the opportunity showed up, making one such opportunity for her was way less serious an offense than... Say... Intentionally getting caught to act as a bait and being beaten bloody in the process without ever warning her beforehand...)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim leaped out of the way of the crazy gorilla guard, rolled, threw his hand in, lifted his key, and ran past, leaving Robin to deal with him.

 

He could have opened these locks just as easily without the keys as with them, sure, but unlike Selina, he liked to have his lock-picking skills underestimated, it made many things easier in his line of work when people trusted something like a lock was enough to keep trouble out.

 

He didn't stop running until he'd 'stolen' all the 'merchandise' (what was it with human traffickers lately), left three guards laying around zip tied and bruised to hell.

 

He dropped the teenagers directly at the police station.

 

Robin was waiting for him in the darkest alley around, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

 

The look in his eyes as he admonished Tim for his lack of team spirit (ha! Ha! Ha! The irony) was a puzzle Tim didn't solve for a good few months.

(But even then he could say it was very far from the irritation Damian tried to project.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim... Abstractedly knew that Damian was beautiful.

 

It would frankly have been strange for him _not_  to be, seeing the mother and father he had.

 

And he had seen him as a really cute (albeit murdery, grumpy and arrogant) kid, as a pretty as hell teenager, and witnessed his growth into what promised to be a very handsome, drop-dead gorgeous adult.

 

He'd just been too busy hating the kid to really see he was cute, and then he had other preoccupations... And then he'd had blinkers on that filtrated Damian's beauty, even as they were flirting outrageously, because he was still a kid in Tim's (and every Gotham vigilante's) eye.

 

The blinkers would probably have stayed on indefinitely.

 

Except Damian had his own plans.

 

 

If Damian's plan was anything approaching subtle, maybe the status-co could have survived...

 

But no, Damian tended to be as subtle as a punch in the face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So yeah, Damian was gorgeous, he was also eighteen, in Tim's bedroom, on Tim's bed, on all four, trapping Tim under his own bedsheets while Tim was naked under them, and he was decreeing that since Tim hadn't sent a birthday gift to celebrate Robin's legal passage into adulthood for everything except alcohol consumption, he had come to get it himself.

 

And THEN he had kissed Tim.

While Tim was naked, in his own bed, in his apartment.

While Damian was now eighteen and legal and in Tim's bed, in his Robin uniform.

 

Damian was, really about as subtle as a punch (or a brick... Tim was starting to see a pattern there) in the face.

 

Damian was also gorgeous, and legal and in Tim's bed, and kissing Tim...

 

Tim felt his Damian-related blinkers disintegrate.

 

He relaxed into the kiss, threw his arms around his younger-almost-maybe-not-completely-and-anyway-I-was-adopted-very-late-brother.

(Yeah, no, not brother. Let's just not.)

 

He opened his lips, and coaxed Damian into lifting a knee so he could maneuver his legs free of the sheets and then around Robin's waist.

 

Damian took a long while to let up, hesitating, going back, as if unsure this was allowed, so uncharacteristically (or not, the more Tim saw of the young vigilante and the more his brashness seemed like a shield, just as Dick insisted back when he was Damian's Batman) shy and afraid of being rejected that Tim felt his heart swell for the kid.

(Wait, no, not kid either. Damn, this was going to force Tim to sort again all the adjectives he used for Damian.)

 

And once again he wondered at the teen's (teen was better, still made Tim feel like he was robbing the cradle, though) boundless bravery in face of something that had to drive a spike just where he was the most tender, in that deep-rooted fear of rejection, that Tim knew Talia (and Bruce.. and Dick too even though he didn't even know it) had carved in him as a child.

 

It took him a while to process the look Damian was giving him (in his defense, he had his mask on and expressions were more complicated to read with those, even with long practice) and see that even with Tim's leg wrapped around him, Damian was still afraid, still waiting for a clue that he wasn't overstepping.

 

Tim sighed deeply. "Well, Happy birthday, then. If you'd bothered telling me what you wanted I would have dressed appropriately."

 

Damian pulled back, looking at Tim's bared torso and thigh. "You mean more than that?"

 

"Birdie, I'm offended you think this is even close to the best I can do, and I will have to remove that assumption from your mind someday. Besides, isn't unwrapping the whole point of gifts."

 

Tim could see Damian's pupils blow right open at the overture. "Well, I always preferred playing with them..."

 

Tim smiled, reached up to peel Robin's mask off, chucked it on the bedside table and pulled Damian right back down to the kissing, not just letting Damian kiss him anymore, though, this time he went in with all his hard-won kissing technique instead of just relaxing into the kiss and going pliant.

(Not that having a pliant partner was in any way bad when it came to kissing... Or other activities.)

 

By a way of tug-push-pull, Tim quickly found himself sitting up to make up for Damian's twitching backward.

(Tim was fairly sure he didn't even notice doing it, these were not bad twitches, more the kind of 'need to breathe for a second' twitches that Tim surged back up into)

He might end up lying on top of Damian if they kept that up, too.

 

He kept one hand on the young vigilante's cheek, left the other drift down the armored bulges in the bright red Robin jacket, that actually looked more brown in the low ambient light that filtered from the street in Tim's bedroom by the open window.

 

Damian gasped and shivered when Tim's hand stopped on his crotch, despite the layers of armor and Kevlar weave still between them.

 

Tim smirked and rooted around for the catches that he knew had to be hidden somewhere in the area.

(Bat-design didn't change much in six years, male uniforms always had a fly, and it was located on one of the edges of the cup for obvious reasons.)

 

So of course, it was when Tim's fingers found the edge of the opening mechanism (that wasn't a zipper, but some kind of expanding zip-lock, like evidence pockets, only fancier, tech was evolving, and so was the Robin suit...) that Catwoman arched graciously through the still open window, mischievous smile in place.

Smile that promptly slipped off when she saw he had a bedpartner.

 

Damian instantly tensed at the unseen (for him) intruder, and Tim had to act fast or...

Or he'd have to go back to sleep alone, probably. "Hey Mom."

 

They didn't really have codewords or anything like that, but the Catlad grin he shot her and the way he hooked his chin over Damian shoulder was enough to let her know he wasn't being coerced.

 

The name calling also made Damian aware of who had just leaped in on them, and Tim could feel him shift from a guarded, potentially offensive tension to a guarded potentially defensive one...

 

Good call, Robin, but unnecessary, Selina doesn't think it is her place to control who Tim has sex with.

She just need to know that he's consenting.

Which their silent dialog was confirming.

 

... Okay sure, Tim can also feel all the other questions weighing in her silence.

 

'Wait up a sec, Kitty, isn't that your BROTHER?' (... _Technically_ , yes... As in, the biological son of the man who adopted me when I was already a teenager.)

'Kitty, protection. Use it.' (Seriously? We're still clothed! ... Okay, so, he's still clothed. Ease up on the condom campaign!)

'You said you wouldn't bring people back there.' (He came here on his own, I brought nothing!)

'So... Is THAT why you wouldn't come along tonight?' (No, I was honestly just sleeping like I said I would. This is an unexpected development.)

'Are you sure, Kitty? You know Cats and Bats have an history... It doesn't tend to end up prettily when we attach ourselves to one.' (I'm not attached, it's sex, just sex, I have sex with tons of people, why would it be 'attaching' just because it's Robin I'm having sex with?)

 

Selina narrowed her eyes at Tim (because she wasn't fluent in Tim glare-speech... yet) but let it go. "Oh, hey boys. Don't let me interrupt, really."

She crossed the room from the window to the hallway door as she spoke, letting Damian see her when he turned his head. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're done, have fun."

 

Tim interrupted her before she could close the door behind herself. "Put the coffee on."

 

She stopped, door half close and eyes narrowed. "What happened to 'six hours of sleep everyday', Tim?"

 

Tim huffed. "I'll take an afternoon nap."

(The enforced sleep was something from really early in her care for him, and not strictly needed anymore, but Selina still harped on her old rules to reduce the risks of backslide.)

 

She grunted and closed the door.

Tim hopped she would make that coffee.

(Not that he couldn't make coffee himself. He'd been sleeping adequately for months, Selina might grumble about sleep, but she wouldn't hide the coffee beans or sit on him until he fell asleep... This time.)

 

Tim leaned back so he could see Damian's face.

 

Damian looked at him, then at the window and at the door, clearing his throat. "That happens often?"

 

"What? Selina walking in on me making out with someone?" Damian nodded. "Almost never." Damian made a disbelieving face at him, looking at the door pointedly. "No, seriously, I don't bring people back here for sex, and anywhere else, she checks before dropping by."

 

Damian paused. "You don't?"

 

"No, I don't, first: identity risk, second: I don't want my one-night stands to be able to knock at my door the next week. Either I go at their place, or I book an hotel."

 

Damian looked around, more interested in Tim's bedroom now that he knew it was private, then he jerked his eyes back toward Tim.

Tim saw the guilt welling up and acted before Damian could speak (because he was sure that forcing him to apologize would automatically make Tim lose the gifting competition... Okay, so Tim took gifting seriously... And he was kind of competitive), surging back in to kiss him and disengaging the locks of Robin's pants.

 

Damian flinched back as Tim pulled the armored jock out, and he froze, waiting for actual consent before pushing any further.

 

"Catwoman's in the next room!"

 

Tim sniggered. "Kitchen is two room over, and she won't care, otherwise she wouldn't have told us to keep on. Do you want me to give you a blowjob, Damian? I fully intend to beat Bruce's gift. I bet he gave you a Porsche, or something."

 

Damian gaped for a few seconds. "Yes. I, yes, definitely."

 

Pretty standard reaction, all in one. Tim pushed the Kevlar weave of the pants as wide open as he could and shifted Damian's underwear out of the way, kissed Damian's chin and scooted back to give himself room to bend down, not bothering to kneel, though, he was flexible enough to give head comfortably with his legs straight, and it never went amiss to flaunt it while getting it on with someone.

 

"It was a Lamborghini."

... Helpful, Damian. Good thing Tim wasn't prone to performance anxiety.

 

Well, time to bring in the A-game, then, Tim wouldn't lose.

 

Damian all but choked at the first touch of Tim's lips on his cock, hand raising reflexively to reach for Tim's head, but stilling halfway before tentatively resting one finger at his temple.

 

Tim leaned in the touch and purred (it's actually pretty easy to do with a little practice), god, It was killing him how fucking cute the teen was.

 

The hand on his face firmed and pressed fully against his cheek as Damian took assurance that this was allowed, and Tim decided it was the perfect moment to suck hard and impale himself down on his bedmate's erection until the head of it blocked his airways.

 

Damian trembled, sucked a hard breath in and stayed totally still.

Which was fun.

 

Tim knew that Damian was pretty extreme about being in total control of himself in all situations, and it showed hard in the way he regulated his breathing and restrained both his hips and vocal cords against Tim's actions.

 

Normally, Tim would have been kind of annoyed (and a little concerned) that the person he's having sex with is trying not to have pleasure, but knowing Damian (even as incompletely as he did), he could tell it didn't have much to do with him personally and everything to do with the way Damian saw his body as something to be used for his own needs and kept in good shape, but not surrendered to.

(He could tell from the way Damian soldiered on through broken arms and blood loss, dismissed hunger as a weakness, thought strategy in a way that didn't put his own body's integrity at the top of his priorities...)

 

It was a little sad, really, even though Damian's refusal to make allowances for his body's weaknesses was what made him so good an athlete and such a good fighter, it also meant that pleasure had to be dulled by the constant control, and well, that was a nice challenge for Tim, It seemed just so alluring to be the one to force Damian to lose that control, to force him to give in, make him surrender.

 

Tim smirked as much as his mouthful allowed, hummed and rubbed his tongue to the underside of Damian's cock, considering all the teasing he could use, all the little techniques he knows to get the result he wanted.

 

... On the other hand, he did want to beat the Lamborghini, so excessive teasing wasn't quite the way to go.

 

Tim settled for a regular and deep bob of head, taking Damian fully in at each stroke down, but just a little slower that would be really satisfying, and rubbing a thumb just at the junction of his thigh and groin, as far in Robin's pants as they allowed, and pressed up irregularly with his tongue, unhurriedly, waiting for the first crack in Damian's composure to show.

 

It took an impressively long time for Damian to let his voice betray him, and Tim immediately hummed in appreciation and swallowed around of the head of his cock.

(Yeah, okay, conditioning his partners to do what he wanted them to via sexual positive reinforcement was part of these things Tim normally avoided doing because it was a little too on the gray side of morality, but damn did Damian need to loosen up. Besides, the line between conditioning a partner and letting them know you liked their actions was kind of blurry anyway.)

 

Damian started unraveling after that, his sounds stayed very quiet, but became more numerous each time Tim decided to amp up the game.

 

It felt so rewarding to be the one forcing these sounds out of this too serious teen.

Tim always liked it when his partners got vocal while he was sucking them off, it kind of was the whole reason why he enjoyed giving oral sex, the feeling of power and control that came from being the one controlling his partner's pleasure, and with Damian, it actually got more heady.

 

He was achingly hard and more than a little breathless from the exertion by the time Damian came with a whine.

 

Despite the way he had been cautious and courteous with it for the whole length of the blow job, Damian's hand clenched on Tim's cheek when he orgasmed, one of his fingers hooking just behind Tim's jaw and pinning him in place, nose pressed into Damian's pubic hair and semen spilling directly inside his throat, forcing him to swallow along for the whole length of the climax... that also got dragged longer by how Tim kept swallowing around the head of Damian's cock.

 

When Damian went limp and let go, Tim carefully pulled off Damian's softening erection and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, smugly surveying the state he'd put his bed-partner in.

 

Robin made such a lovely picture, kneeling low, knees braced wide for balance, still completely clothed, cape included, except for his cock hanging out of his fly, on Tim's ruffled bed, leaning backward in exhaustion, breath still labored and...

Oh. And cheeks wet with tears.

 

Arousal ramped up at the evidence of how much he affected him.

 

Tim's hand moved before he could stop it, fingertips skimming Damian’s cheekbone, and he surged forth to kiss him, gently cupping the young vigilante’s face even as he lost control over his hips and straddled Damian's thigh, automatically rubbing himself up against the bulk of muscle there.

 

Giving head always made Tim horny, and Damian was just so much more challenging and satisfying than anyone else he'd ever had the pleasure of blowing, and at this point, Tim was already pretty much on the brink, just from knowing how much impact he could have on his Robin successor.

 

A few humps against Damian's leg were enough to snap the teen out of his daze, and Tim felt the silicon ribbed fabric of Robin's glove touching his shaft.

He almost yelled as the high-grip palm and digits all but stuck to his skin, making the friction of Damian's motions cross that border into pain.

 

Damian noticed Tim's sensitivity overload and stilled. "Good?"

 

Tim shivered. "Sticking. Hurts."

 

Damian blinked at him, pulled his hand away, frowned at his glove, then growled, seized one of Tim's own hand and used it instead of his to stroke Tim.

 

Then it was his own hand that was wrapped around himself, but Damian was guiding him, controlling the pace, the grip with his own hand wrapped over Tim's, the cool, catching pads of the glove on the back of his hand contrasting with the hot slickness of his erection inside his palm.

 

Damian leaned back forward to catch Tim in another heated, sloppy kiss, still helping him jerk himself off.

 

Tim's eyes fluttered open, letting him take in the sight of Damian's eyelashes clumped together by tears, and he shook through his orgasm with a moan.

 

Tim melted back down into his warm comfortable bed, enjoying the warm fuzziness of afterglow.

 

Damian followed him down, careful not to let his weigh settle on Tim too fast, or even completely, and Tim left himself float in daze, enjoying the hormones in his bloodstream and the weight anchoring him down.

 

"You win."

What? Oh, right, gift, Lamborghini, yay.

 

He sighed, then inhaled the heady, familiar scent of Robin.

Even when he wasn't the one wearing the uniform, Robin still smelled like Tim remembered.

 

He had that typical Gotham vigilante scent of Kevlar and leather, sweat, high-end mineral oil lubricant the Bats used for their gadgets, and just a touch of fuel and explosives chemical, and then there was smell of Alfred's cleaning solution for armor, and the dusty, lightly musty odor of the Batcave and a faint aroma of Gotham's smog, rain, blood and piss that they couldn't really get rid of unless they spent more than a week heroing outside the city borders.

 

And at the same time, there was Damian's own scent under the generic Bat-smell, the subtle difference of Damian's very own odor in his sweat, the brand of hair gel he used to keep his bang spiked up and out of his eyes, his preferred shaving cream and aftershave, the permeating cosmetic smell that the Waynes that had to conceal their bruises with foundation fluid and powder kept clinging to them even at night, and then the musky smell of warm animal fur from Damian's pets.

 

And there was also the smell of sex, to round up the nostalgic smell. It was almost addictive.

 

Tim didn't even try to be subtle about it, he buried his nose into the hollow of Damian's collarbone and inhaled deeply, letting the new yet familiar smell lull him.

 

Damian chuckled. "What do I smell of?"

 

Tim hummed, nudging again at the warm skin under his nose. "You smell like The Night. And Justice."

 

Damian huffed, a twinkle in his eye. "Talking about Father... I should probably go back before he notices I disappeared from patrol."

 

That shook Tim out of his of his torpor enough to laugh at the concept. "Good luck with that one."

 

Damian growled at the ribbing and pushed himself on all four.

 

Tim sighed and sat too. "Here, let me help."

 

He retrieved his water bottle and Damian's mask from the bedside table, and used a dampened corner of his sheets to clean up Damian's face from the saliva and tears, then rid the Robin costume of the cum that had splashed on it.

He dampened another section and wiped Damian's cock before drying it carefully with yet another patch of sheet, and tucking him back in replacing the armored jock in and layering and closing the pants.

 

Tim then patted Damian's face dry and stuck the mask over his eyes, lenses still retracted. "There, now you have about five hundred percent more chances of fooling him. Still not great odds, mind you."

 

"-Tt- why are you so mean, Drake?"

 

"That's called realist."

 

Damian clambered out of bed, balance incredibly steady for someone who came less than ten minutes before.

He smoothed his costume in place, then looked back at Tim. "I believe I missed your birthday this year, what do you wish to be gifted for your next one?"

 

Tim did remember a massive toolbox full of really specific and hard to get material, tools and parts for his Catlad weapons and gadgets being left in one of his low-secrecy bases for his birthday from the Bat family as a whole, but he guessed Damian just didn't count it as a real gift since it wasn't specifically from him. "What about I just sneak in your room and steal what I like?"

 

Damian smiled at the gentle ribbing. "Should I ensure not to be present, then?"

 

That could almost sound like arrogance... If Damian wasn't actually so damn desirable. "Or you could make sure to be there..."

 

Damian huffed a laugh and trod over to the window.

 

Tim watched him jump on the windowsill and shoot a grapple into the night, mourning the way the cape hid the view of the vigilante's ass.

 

 

 

 

Selina was Taking a batch of cookies out of the oven when Tim got in the kitchen.

It probably was a way to make a point on how long Tim had taken to join her.

 

Selina watched him retrieve a mug and poor himself a coffee (that she had even made with the good timing for it to still be warm, so he had to be in the clear about sleeping habits) before she spoke. "Had a good time?"

 

Tim smirked. "Great, even, Baby Bat is the quiet type, I love playing with those."

 

"So I can't go and scare the shit out of him?"

 

Tim shook his head.

That probably meant nothing other than that she had been waiting for an occasion to do something motherly like putting Tim's lover on the spot. "He's already gone, B will probably do it for you anyway."

 

She bit her lower lip, sighed. "Talking about... Isn't Robin supposed to be your brother?"

 

Tim had never actually talked about his second family's secret identities with Selina.

She knew and he knew she knew, but they didn't share Tim's inside knowledge in respect for Tim's remaining loyalty to them.

It was not a real rule, though, so he still answered. "I was adopted at fifteen, and Damian came to Gotham in the next year. We tried to kill each-other four times in the two following years, and then I left with you. We don't consider each-other brothers, never really have. He still calls me Drake, you know."

 

Selina nodded slowly, then narrowed her eyes at him and snatched a sheet of paper towel and ran it under the tap before walking up to Tim, taking his jaw in her hand and scrubbing the bottom of his face clean of whatever had dried on his skin.

She made a face at him. "Do I pretend I don't notice the white tint, Tim? Oral doesn't mean you can do away with protection, Kitty."

 

He winced.

There came the safe sex part. "I really don't like the taste of condoms, even the flavored ones, and I knew he was clean."

 

She just raised a brow at him.

 

"He'd have told me." She still stared at him. "Yes, he would have known, Batman enforces a weekly wide spectrum blood work check-up. I wasn't risking anything, I do use protection with one night stands, but it was a blow-job and it was Robin."

 

Selina huffed and hugged him. "Sorry, I just worry, I hear mothers do that."

 

"Yeah, they usually do, but I am twenty three, I don't need babying anymore."

 

Selina sighed. "I have to catch up, you were already eighteen when I got you."

 

Tim relaxed a little in her hold, He had had three families so far, and Selina (the morally gray area Catwoman thief) seemed to be the only one able to fully express her emotions and affection like a functional human.

 

With maybe the exception of Dick, but Tim's oldest brother, despite all the love Tim had for him was a very unreliable source of comfort. Sure, he always loved Tim, but he also tended to disappear without notice for months on end, leaving Tim feeling even colder and lonelier for the sudden disappearance of his bone crushing hugs and praises and easy smiles, and as time passed, Tim had lost his faith in his affection.

Sure, he meant it on the moment, and it felt good to receive it too at said moment, but Tim tended to partition these affections off, for fear that it would be lacking at the exact moment when Tim needed it most.

(From the top of his head... Say, when Bruce was believed to be dead and Dick chose to make Damian Robin?)

 

Selina sensed the dark turn of his thoughts and nudged him back in the present with a little shake... And a pointed question. "So, when you said 'no, I'm going to sleep', I didn't realize there was an implied 'with Robin' in there... I thought you didn't bring your flings back here."

 

...

"There was no, 'with Robin' in my statement, he invited himself in my planning, and in in my apartment, too. Breaking and entering is in the Bat Manual in the chapter 'how to interact with non-hostiles', though, so I can't actually blame it for it."

 

Selina's eyes turned really soft. "Just be careful, Kitty, romantic entanglements with Bats can get really messy and painful, are you sure about doing that?"

 

Tim didn't know if he wanted to sigh or growl or face-palm, or maybe congratulate himself for being able to read his mentor that well... "Why do you assume I am 'entangled'? I have sex with lots of people, why would this one be any different?"

 

Selina had her 'why am I surrounded by morons' face on, or it might be the 'males are stupid and useless' face, the difference wasn't so great in between (especially when the look was a mash up of the two, which Tim strongly suspected was the case at the moment). "So you're telling me that Robin came here, unannounced, when you had other plans, and you still had sex with him... Without protection too, because as you just said 'it was Robin'. And You don't think it is in any way different than anyone else you've had sex with?"

 

...

"No."

 

Selina threw her hands up.

(Over dramatic, much?)

"Tim. You don't have sex with people here, you hate when any sexual situation isn't initiated by you almost as much as you hate having your schedule disturbed. Yet you had sex with Robin when he did all of that." She paused, squinted at Tim. "Did I get anything wrong?"

 

Tim pursed his lips. "Yes, I initiated. Damian was probably only hoping for a kiss, but he claimed it as his birthday gift. Bruce gave him a Lamborghini and I hate to lose, so I offered to blow him. What?"

Selina looked very pained behind the hand she was using to cover her face. "You're telling me that Robin wanted a kiss. From you. On his eighteen's birthday?"

 

"Yes...?"

 

"And? You see nothing?"

 

Tim frowned. "No?"

 

Selina heaved the most massive of sigh, wincing deeply, and sat on a chair with a slump. "Kitty... People see their eighteenth birthday as relevant. They tend to expect gifts that has a significance for that occasion, too. Yet the fact that Robin expected just a kiss from you does not seem in any way telling?"

 

Tim wasn't totally stupid (some even called him a genius, actually) so he could see what she was leading up to, it was just absurd, Damian was still way young, and what transpired tonight was more likely to be the result of frustration buildup from a year and a half of confrontational flirting and teasing than _emotions_. "I am a good kisser."

 

Selina stared at him for a full minute.

 

He did not relent, she was the one seeing things when there was only lust and pent-up sexual tension.

 

She finally sighed a frustrated "I give up, boys are emotion blind." Before pushing a folded parcel of fabric on the table. "I saw that tonight while I was stealing the formulas, it was in the laboratory and labeled 'super-fabric hash three point six', I don't know what it does, but I thought you'd like to play with it."

 

Love swelled in Tim's chest.

 

Selina had not only thought about him, but she'd gotten him something that was at once a mystery and a potential tool.

 

She really knew him well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much chocked when Tim decided to be THAT blunt when asking if Damian wanted a blowjob, he is way more subtle in my head-canon, but there is a good reason for it, it's called explicit consent.
> 
> Up to then Tim didn't ask for it, since he took Damian's action of kissing him as an implicit consent, but the moment Damian showed a sign he wasn't comfortable, Tim estimated that implicit consent did not apply anymore and had to ask for explicit consent before he did anything more.
> 
> I could not make Tim any more lax in his principles on that front, not with how much he and Selina hate rapists.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter should be up soon, there might also be a fourth chapter, it depends if I can pack everything I want in this fic in four thousand words (it's unlikely from where I'm looking at this).


	3. Some Truths Hurt (As Do Broken Bones)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hit me while writing this that I needed to make my timeline clearer for my readers so they could follow my wild assumptions, since I never bothered to explain which version of DCU I was using for that story...
> 
> I am using the pre-reboot world and denying the whole existence of Flashpoint.  
> And also including a few events of new 52, but more in a 'it happened anyway' sort of way, than universe fusion one, providing for the fact that Red Robin 'died' years ago.
> 
> So... Goliath isn't a thing that exists in there
> 
> Damian died and was revived in the year before the first chapter of his fic, but Dick's identity was never revealed to the public, neither did he fake his own death or infiltrate spiral.
> 
> I also chose to ignore the whole "Dick Grayson was supposed to be Talon" plot-line.
> 
> The Court of Owl surfaced just before the first chapter (remember, it was one of Tim's triggers to suicidal behavior), meaning that the events of Robin War couldn't have happened like it does in the new 52, but the We Are Robin part happened (... sometime in chapter two, I guess), except since Bruce was still in the picture as himself, he took care of it with Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin, the understanding they came to with the wannabe Robins being that anytime a Bat met one of them at night, they'd jump the kid to assess if he was good enough for the lifestyle. If the kid was good enough, they would train them, if not, they'd bring them back to their home and leave them trussed up in their own bed to try and free themselves on their own, hopefully before their parents noticed... Kids that complained that Batman had no right to vet them were wholeheartedly encouraged to chose something other than the Robin 'R' and colors to wear for their endeavors... And would get reported for their vigilantism to the police each time the Bats saw them, because they could either be under the protection and authority of Batman, and then they'd have to clear his standards for crime-fighting, or they could vigilante freelance, and then, they didn't have the laissez-faire from Police that they'd get by being one of the Bats.
> 
> Duke is still one of the We Are Robin's leader, and around fifteen, but he is still kind of aged down, since these events took place when Damian was seventeen.
> 
> Tim was aware of these events, but didn't get involved in it, at least not directly, because he stopped the hero business for a reason, and unlike the others there is no defensible reason for Catlad to get actively involved in this, he is a villain after all. He does however report and/or attack any kid trying to play hero with or without a 'R' after the Batclan made their deal with them, because as a mild villain that is justifiable in a "wanna be a hero, kid, see if you can beat me" kind of way. After which, he'd tie them up, leave them on a rooftop and call one of the Bats to come and pick them up... along with rating for their performance.
> 
> The whole Robin craze kind of died down in a couple of months of heavy Bat-aggression, but Duke passed the test.

 

Tim woke up to an unusual sound and promptly sat up, casing his room for any sign of an intruder.

 

His search was cut short when he spotted the shadow against his window. (He had upgraded the security on it after Damian's last visit. Just because he'd welcomed it didn't mean he couldn't take actions against another such occurrence.)

 

He dove for the baseball bat strapped under his springbox (indoors was not a good place for staffs or whips... Garrotes worked okay, but weren't a very good defensive option), tucked, rolled across the room and assumed a lowered fighting stance.

Only then did he stay still long enough to see the faint golden glimmer reflecting from the shadow, or the bloody print of a hand left on the window-plane

 

Even as the adrenaline kept singing in his blood, Tim felt himself freeze with dread.

Why would Robin come to HIM when he was injured?

 

Forgoing caution, even at the risk of walking into a trap, Tim ran to the window and started typing the opening code in as he visually confirmed that his visitor was indeed Damian.

And discovered Damian wasn't alone.

Tucked under the vigilante arm was a youth in a yellow helmet.

 

Oh, shit, wasn't the new kid supposed to be starting this week? The one who had been the leader of that Robin copy-cat wave a month back, and all the Batboys had agreed was one out of four in the whole lot to actually be good enough to fight in Gotham's night without getting himself killed in the process?

 

Tim yanked at the bolt, put the magnet over the hidden lock-latch and finally opened the window, immediately leaned over to help Robin maneuver his charge in, already cataloging the visible injuries.

It didn't look very good.

Just from there Tim could already see two broken bones (note: bones poking out of flesh looked even more disturbing on a brown skin), a deep laceration, a cranial injury with potential concussion (though the helmet reduced the odds of the latest, the cranial bones might even still be intact) and really nasty bruises around his throat.

Gotham had been pretty unforgiving to it's new vigilante.

 

Tonight was going to be the rude hero reality-check for the kid.

If he stuck around after that one, chances were he'd stay indefinitely.

If he flaked... Well, at least, he had not been in the business long enough to become an adrenaline junkie like the rest of them.

 

It still didn't explain why Damian chose to bring the kid to him instead of the Cave.

 

"I'm sorry for imposing, Drake, but I was entrusted with Thomas' safety and I couldn't think of anyone else to look after him while I went to pull Father out of that mess."

 

Tim had twitter alarms on his phone to inform him if anything major and disastrous was happening in Gotham,(if only so that he could avoid getting caught in the crossfire... also sometimes so he could assist his BatSiblings) and it hadn't gone off. That, with the state 'Thomas' (Damian just didn't use people's first names, so he assumed that it wasn't actually the kid's preferred method of address) was in could only mean a Cave invasion, eventually coupled with simultaneous hits on the patrolling heroes.

Add to that the fact that Robin brought the latest Batkid to Catlad instead of going to Oracle, meant whoever was pulling an hostile takeover on Gotham also had inside knowledge on Babs' Birds of Prey and enough manpower to hit that many people at once... Everything covert enough not to alert civilians of the battle at play.

 

The possible identities of the culprit were pretty much... "Ra's, Spyral, or the Joker? Please tell me it isn't Luthor."

 

Damian tensed, helping Tim carry the injured kid over to his bed. "We still can't tell, but if it is Grandfather, he finally decided that mercenaries weren't beneath him after all."

 

"Slade?" Damian nodded. "Catman?" He shook his head. "How many."

 

"Enough to be a real threat, but not enough to call for backup, yet. Please just make sure my charge doesn't die, we'll take care of it."

 

Tim snatched Damian's cape before he could pull a Batman on him. "Oh, no you don't, if you're going back out you're letting me stitch up whatever injury you're hiding first."

 

Damian grunted and slumped to one side, suddenly favoring his left leg. "How did you know?"

 

"First, you're one of the Bat Brats, that's SOP for you bunch, second, the blood on my carpeting is in three distinct lines, and one of them is really far from the other two. Third, I wasn't sure, but you just confirmed it, sit and press that up here."

 

Tim handed Robin the clean T-shirt that had been waiting to be worn in the morning on it's hanger, and pointed to to the new kid's largest wound, then he went to his sex toys chest (strangely enough, most people opened a chest, saw a huge variety of more or less kinky toys and slammed it closed right back... It made it the best place to hide Tim's slightly suspicious supplies, also, full surgical first aid kit right next to the BDSM equipment meant the first assumption would be that he plays really sick games, not that he's a masked thief) and retrieved the blue bag, then he opened his desk drawer and drew out a roll of black duct tape before going back to his (im)patients

 

Tim was almost suspicious of how easily Damian relented and left him strip his pants to get at the slice in his thigh, so he surreptitiously used his closeness to verify if Damian wasn't using that injury as a cover for worse ones, but didn't find anything.

The cut was pretty deep, and it took Tim seven minutes to have it sanitized and stitched up to his satisfaction (Damian insisted he didn't lose his time on a local anesthetic, Tim disapproved, but he played along). Damian twitched with impatience all the while, but Tim didn't pay him mind and kept on dressing the wound, making sure that the stitches wouldn't get torn in the fight by laying strips of very sticky medical tape across Damian's whole thigh, furrowing the skin where the injury was (over a strip of gauze and the usual Vaseline to help the cicatrice form, he didn't want his precautions to end up causing Damian pain when they had to remove the tape).

 

When he was done bandaging to his satisfaction, Tim helped Damian place his armor and pants back on correctly and laid a strip of black duct tape over the tear on the pants so the fact that Robin was injured and patched up there wouldn't be as easy to spot.

 

He finished his work by laying a twin, symmetrical strip of black duct tape on Damian's other leg so the patch up job would look like it was part of the design. "There, now you can go beat up the bad guys and save the Batman, my hero."

 

Damian scooted over so Tim could keep the pressure on the kid's wound as he stood up. "Thank you, Timothy, please keep Lark alive for me."

 

Tim jolted from hearing Damian actually call him by his first name, but it really wasn't the moment to dwell on it. "Of course, Robin, and you keep yourself alive, okay."

 

Damian bent over Tim and caught his chin to pull him into a kiss.

Selina's voice echoed in Tim's head, going on about feelings, but Tim didn't listen to it, not with half of his mind dedicated to his task of looking after the vigilante kid, and most of what was left divided between appreciating the taste of Damian and trying to solve the mystery of the night's attack on the Bats.

 

He patted Damian on the ass when they separated (nice ass, too, even with the urgency of the situation, Tim couldn't help but wonder how it felt to be balls deep into it). "Now go save Gotham and her heroes , I have a cover-story to manufacture over here."

 

Damian nodded and sprinted right out the window, flipping in the air in a way that made it very obvious that Dick had been his first vigilante mentor before firing a grapple and disappearing for the slice of outside world Tim could see from his bed.

 

Tim sighed and turned back to the injured teen on his bed, who incidentally wasn't unconscious anymore and was staring at Tim like he was a riddle. (The kid kind of reminded him of someone...) "Who are you? How come Robin left me with you? And how are you on kissing terms with Robin? You're one of ours?"

 

Pretty bright kid. "I'm Tim, Robin trusts my combat and planning skills are enough to keep you out of trouble, especially since I don't ping on the same radars as the Bats." Tim could lie and bullshit with the best, but the kid was one of the Bats, he would discover the truth about Catlad soon enough on his own. "That's because I am not one of yours anymore, even though I come close enough at times. Also, my relationship with Damian is in the it's complicated territory and we don't advertise it to the Family, so if you could keep it on the down-low, you'd spare yourself a very grumpy Robin."

 

The kid breathed deep and even, probably to help with the awful pain he was in, broken bones weren't fun. "Tim... Wasn't that Red Robin's name? His file is closed, but I know he should be twenty-three around now... You say you're not in the business anymore? How can you 'come close' while you're retired? Unless you didn't retire, that is."

 

Tim was honestly impressed with the kid's detective skills, he saw the kid look around the room for clues. (There weren't any, not in Tim's civilian place, the suit and gadgets were safely stashed in a hidden closet that Tim's floor-plan concealed. Tim didn't play as lose with his ID as Dick did.)

 

"Close enough to a hero, in Gotham, and still good enough for Robin to trust you. You're a neutral, aren't you? ... I heard it wasn't unusual to see the Cats team up with ours... Especially the new male one... Who happens to be the same body-type as you, actually, and Red Robin too, now that I think about it..."

 

Tim chuckled whole-heatedly at this new, smart as hell kid. "Okay, you got me, I'm Timothy Drake-Wayne, also known as Catlad, former Red Robin, and even more formerly known as Robin, and the Batkids didn't exaggerate anything when they gushed on about how smart you were, Lark, though I guess I can call you Duke, it took me a while to piece together since Damian calls everyone by their last name, and all the others use first names, but Dick did mention that you could give me a run for my money on the analytical department... Now, if you'll excuse me, for all that this conversation is fascinating, I need to get you to a treatment, Damian won't be impressed if I let you die from blood loss on my watch."

 

"Oh, cool."

 

"Not that much, I'm not good enough a surgeon to take care of an open fracture, we need to get you to an ER for it, which means I can't treat anything else either or it'll raise suspicions and risk your identity. Sadly, Leslie's clinic will probably be under watch by whoever is ambushing the Bats en masse tonight, that means I have to get you out of this uniform, and into street clothes, get you all the way to a dark back-alley and set the scene so I can call 911 for you and play the panicked witness. It won't be fun for you."

 

Duke winced. "And how do you get the correct amount of blood on these street clothes?"

 

"I rub your uniform and these sheets on them and you do the rest." Tim gingerly lifted the T-shirt from the gash on the kid's side. "What did this? It's not a knife wound."

 

He looked up from where he was fastening temporary compression bandages on Duke's stomach to listen. (Tim didn't even know if he could call himself lucky that the broken bone was stemming the blood loss on the teen's forearm, but it meant it didn't need a compression bandage now so it was kind of good.)

 

Duke winced. "Some kind of panther woman. Broke my shin and forearm, almost gutted me and was choking the hell out of me against a wall... And then Robin flipped over our heads and took her down in three moves, speak about making me look like a newb."

 

Tim winced in sympathy, even as he sprinted around the room to retrieve his best scissors and a change of clothes for Duke (thankfully, he was young and Tim's clothes would fit well enough until they got cut off), Damian sure was a though act to follow, already was at eleven, and he'd only gotten better with time. "Okay we're going to use exactly that for your cover story, we're in Gotham, it'll barely raise an eyebrow. Whoever is attacking has the Family ID'ed anyway, other people probably don't know about Lark yet. No one saw this?"

 

"No" Duke schooled his respiration as Tim started in on his uniform, using the opening systems as much as possible, Kevlar weave was hell on blades, Tim would have to buy new scissors when this was all over.

 

"Good, it means you're in the clear for normal hospitals." Tim kept talking, anything to distract the bleeding teen. "Damian must have been absolutely furious, he told me he was entrusted with your safety, yet you've got five different serious injuries, it doesn't matter why he wasn't able to come to your aid earlier, he'll probably spend your whole recovery over-training like there's no tomorrow."

 

Tim would have to cut one of the boots off, he wasn't risking the broken shin, and he didn't look forward to having to free Duke's injured arm from the uniform, the bone had poked right through the skin and fabric, and there was maybe an inch leeway on the hole in the uniform. "Did you train with Batman a lot? Someone with your mind shouldn't try to use the same techniques as Dick or Damian, strategy through the melee, that's how I always did it and I could sometimes even beat Damian in a spar... When he was twelve, so it had to be easier than it would be now, but seriously, try to get Bruce to teach you battlefield manipulation, you'll do a lot better for it."

 

"Won't you? You sound like the expert."

 

"I'm avoiding Bruce, and the Cave as a whole, last time I was there I was very antagonistic. Bruce tends to need a long time to cool off, and I definitely don't want to hear him try to justify himself or try and prove he was right all along." Tim finished cutting at the pants and carefully tugged them free, wincing in sympathy for the kid. That wasn't even the worst part yet. "Tell you what, kid, once you're out of hospital I'll make you a fight simulator to help you train on that."

 

 

 

 

It took an irritatingly long time (especially considering that each minute Duke wasn't treated, the risks of infection got bigger) to get Damian's ward in the good clothes (Tim also had to replicate the rip on the T-shirt, he hadn't even bothered with a jacket, tonight was a little chilly, but they could get away with bare arms) then apply first aid with duct tape and paper.

(You had to try first to believe it, but duct tape was great for applying a compression bandage, and a dozen paper sheets were pretty stiff when bent around a limb, and Tim could get away with carrying both on himself as a civilian pretty easily.)

Then he dressed himself with yesterday clothes (yuck) sans-T-shirt (it was supposed to be in Duke's compression bandage) and loaded a shoulder-bag with the correct supplies to look like a college student coming back from some kind of student's event.

He snatched his fake ID and spared a moment to be glad for all the extra time he spent making his Tim Wylke alias completely foolproof, including paying a tuition at an actual college, before he grabbed Duke the most delicately he could and jumped out the window with a grapple gun to find the place where Duke had been attacked by the meta.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim glowered down at his stupid brother.

He knew Dick had been dumped by his latest girlfriend last week, he would be inclined to cut him some slack... But seeing Nightwing go into his thirtieth hour without sleep was a kind of familiar that threatened to give Tim flashbacks.

For the sake of not backsliding from osmosis effect, Tim had to do something.

 

It would take some special equipment and planning, but it was totally doable

 

 

 

 

Four hours later found Tim sneaking into Dick's apartment (through the front door, Tim was fairly sure it was the first time this happened to this apartment during Dick's tenancy of it, windows, certainly not, but breaking in through the front door was a very novel idea in the Batcircles) in comfortable lounge clothes, with a bag full of pastries, ice cream, various savory snacks and iced tea. (As far as Tim was concerned, alcohol had no place in a feel good party. Some of his siblings might disagree, but it was Tim staging the intervention, so their opinions could easily be discarded.)

He put everything that needed to be refrigerated in the fridge (and the ice-cream in the freezer, it was obvious, but Tim had once put his ice-cream in the fridge, so now he remembered it) and started reorganizing Dick's apartment.

He knew it had been fairly well kept when Dick was still with Shawn, it had degenerated, but nothing a couple garbage bags and a trip to the laundry room couldn't fix.

 

Aside from cleaning up, Tim had another plan. It involved dragging Dick's mattress and bedding in the middle of the living room and making a nest border with all the couch cushions.

 

 

 

 

Dick stumbled in through the window just as Tim set the snacks tray on the barred seating of the couch.

 

(He was just there to change so he could go out with Bruce at some Wayne thing. Tim knew because he was supposed to be there too. He'd sent a text excusing himself and Dick five minutes prior, well, not so much excusing as stating they wouldn't be there, and Bruce would be a terrible parent if he protested. The lack of ampler forewarning was there for many reasons... Like how he still felt like being petty to Bruce, and how he needed Dick not to know he was excused beforehand for his plan to work.)

Tim smiled at his brother, feeling very pleased by the dumbfounded expression on his face.

 

Right on cue, Dick's civilian phone started ringing, it's screen announcing Brucie Wayne (Tim wondered if Bruce had also done something to annoy Dick, because the family uniformly hated 'Brucie'). Tim snatched it before Dick could get to it and answered it. "No! Today Dick is mine." He hissed before unceremoniously hanging up. He looked back at Dick, who was frowning. "Bruce. I told him he couldn't have you."

 

"What the hell, Tim?"

 

Tim stood straighter, refusing to be intimidated. "This is an intervention, get your pretty ass in there." Tim smirked, pointing down to his newly made nest.

 

Dick's frown only got deeper and he crossed his arms. "Would you stop that, Tim?"

 

"Stop what?"

 

"Stop talking about my ass all the time. You're my brother, it makes me uncomfortable, stop it."

 

That was so not what Tim had been expecting Dick to take exception to.

But it was so... Well, it was taking a support beam to the face while confidently swinging through a well known warehouse.

 

Because damn, had Tim really been objectifying Dick? Yes. Yes he had. He couldn't stand people doing it, but he'd done it, repeatedly, to his own brother. "Oh, oh, Fuck. Dick, I'm so sorry! I, I didn't think... I'm so sorry, I won't do it again, I swear!"

Tim stumbled toward Dick, hesitated a moment, then took his hand, instead of going for the hug that had been in his plans. "I'm sorry, god, why didn't I see it? I..."

 

Dick started to fidget. Tim stopped apologizing when he understood that Dick had probably said that thinking it would spark a fight that would give him good reason to run away, and he really didn't know what to do with genuine regrets instead. "Just... Don't do it." Dick mumbled looking away from Tim.

 

Tim nodded and went in for the hug anyway. "Promise. If I slip up, you clear your throat or something. I really don't do it on purpose."

 

Dick fidgeted some more. "Now, why is my bedroom in the living room?"

 

Tim cleared his throat. "Well since you're in a funk and Dami isn't there to pretend he doesn't want you to hug him for hours, and Jason pretends he's too though for hugs, so I figured I'd hold a cuddle intervention for you?" Dick made a surprised noise. "Hum, I put your pajamas in the bathroom, go shower and put them on? I have a plan and everything."

 

 

 

 

"So this is your plan?" Dick mused, smiling down at Tim.

 

"Yup. It is a very advanced Cat technique, that I learned studying our namesakes." Tim smiled, still a bit shy from his earlier rebuke.

 

"It's surprisingly effective." Dick chuckled, ruffling Tim's hear with one hand while reaching for the ice cream bowl on the tray with his other.

 

Tim hummed, wiggling a bit to find the most comfortable position for the both of them. "Yup. I'm calling it the 'fall asleep on them' technique. Now you have no choice but to stay there until I leave on my own will." Tim shuffled the blankets and tucked it under Dick's thighs. "You may pet my hair, and you're encouraged to sleep too." Tim gently butted his forehead against Dick's chest, and decided that it wouldn't be that weird to lay between Dick's legs. "You're comfy, I should use it on you more often."

 

Dick sighed fondly, still idly scratching Tim's scalp. (Tim purred a bit.) "Thanks."

 

Tim yawned and tried to bury his face further into Dick's comfy, firm chest muscles. "I know. I'm fabulous." Dick tried to sternly swat Tim's head. It came out as more of a tap. "If your case is that important, I'll help you... I'll just ask for a dozen of these new spring and magnet powered batteries Bruce got his hands on."

 

"So generous."

 

"I know." Dick shook his head at Tim's unabashed arrogance, but he still gradually unwound, melting from the easy affection.

 

Twenty minutes later, Dick was snoring, full from absentmindedly clearing the tray of snacks and lulled by the heat and sound of Tim weighing him down.

Tim smirked and fell asleep too. Mission accomplished

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, Damian wasn't in Gotham for Tim's twenty-fourth birthday. He had to go away with the Titans for a long term space mission. (Damian had managed to become a well liked member of the team, it helped that the newest iteration didn't contain more than a couple of person who'd known Tim as Robin, so his teammates only expected him to be himself and kick asses.) But he'd left a red wrapped gift box in the middle of his perfectly made bed.

 

Tim smiled and slipped in the room, jumping into the vigilante's bed, cheerfully mussing up the smoothed bed-covers before he picked the long, slim box and peered at the wrapping paper, admiring the neat corners and hand-drawn arabesques adorning it before he tore it away, revealing a jewelry box and a note that said Tim was welcome to also steal anything he wanted, except for Damian's violin and computer.

 

The box itself opened to reveal a silver pendant in the form of a cat head, inset with rubies for eyes and onyxes in stripes pattern that Tim could tell were both of very good quality and expertly cut.

 

It was probably the most thoughtful gift Tim had gotten so far, silver hues (or white gold as he was now fairly sure was the actual metal of his pendant) rubies and blacks were still his very favorite tones for jewels.

Tim didn't know how Damian had known that, but he had totally batted that gift out of the park.

Tim carefully caught the very thin white gold chain and lifted the necklace up to see it better, revealing an intricate and beautiful chain knot-work leading to the pendant proper, yeah, Damian had gifts well in hand.

 

AND THEN, Tim turned the pendant just so and was stunned all over again.

Because the onyx inlay, the relief, the position of the cat's ear all worked together to outline a landing bird (probably a robin, in fact) inside of the cat head.

That was even more of a surprise because Tim doubted that even Damian had been able to find that off the shelf, it had to have been commissioned.

Which both made an (even more) indecent price and an incredible amount of time spent designing the piece. As well as months of foresight.

Tim sat on Damian's bed starring at his wonderful gift, turning it this way and that and finding it more perfect for each detail.

 

About ten minutes later, he snapped out of his daze, put the necklace on and decided to snoop around to address the "also steal" part of his gift.

(It wasn't necessary with how perfect the initial gift had been, but Tim felt the note sounded like a challenge, and it had been two full years since he had last been able to ignore a challenge from Damian.)

 

Damian was pretty damn tidy, and also really sneaky, but about twenty minutes into his investigation, Tim managed to find the ninja's hidden cache (fourth one, after the obvious fake bottom in the drawers -for his secret plans for taking over the world- and removable ceiling tile -porn-, as well as between the mattress and spring-box on the wall's side -gay porn-) stuck on the back of the desk's drawer-box was a rigid file containing six graphite drawing of great detail.

 

One of Robin and Talia sparing.

One of Robin and Batman sitting in the Batmobile fist-bumping.

One of Robin and Nightwing, swinging together high above the ground in graceful, complementary arcs.

One of Robin and the girls punching bad guys together.

One of Robin and Red Hood, standing back to back, weapons ready but relaxed, posture just a little curved , and smirks firmly in place on their smug mugs. (Jay's smile was somehow visible through his helmet thanks to a really well done semi transparency.)

One of Robin and Red Robin fighting some ill-seen enemy together.

 

Each drawing featured a Robin of a different age, the one with Talia was ten, the one with Bruce barely six months older. The one with Dick was about thirteen. The one with the Batgirls was twelve. The one with Jason was thirteen too but sported the scar across his eyebrow that he'd gotten in his fight against the Heretic (lending credence to Jason's claim that it was the dying that made them friends). The one with Tim was fourteen, meaning it had been drawn right after his "catnapping".

 

Tim picked the drawing up, fascinated by the way he was detailed all down to the facial feature, all the little seams perfectly placed despite how it must have been drawn from memory.

 

Tim already knew what he was going to steal tonight, so he took his time admiring his loot, the way the teenaged, black and white Robin was ducking under Red Robin's swinging staff, throwing Batarangs at someone behind Tim's back, the easy way this drawn Tim left Damian protect his back and anticipated Damian's own move and protected him back.

If this was, as Tim suspected (especially seeing how well hidden these drawings had been) actually Damian's fantasy and hopes for the two of them, he had reasons to feel ashamed of his comportment back when he was still Red Robin (in his defense, he had a lot on his mind besides Damian's feelings).

 

Then he turned the drawing over and exhaled another stunned breath.

On the paper, a more grown up Robin (seventeen) was... wrestling? With Catlad. It was the second design he'd worn on his Gotham stay. The little black and white figures were locked into a fight that actually resembled a make-out session, Tim could see his own teasing, playful smile around his eyes and on the lip corners poking out of his scarf. And the Damian on the paper was actually responding in kind in a way Tim hadn't really seen Damian do, while he trapped Tim's hands behind his back.

Tim arched up in the hold, legs hooked around Damian's and hips canted snug against his, obviously there to throw Robin off-balance, or maybe because this was a drawing of foreplay, and not of a fight.

Tim swallowed dryly. Fuck.

 

Out of curiosity, he flipped the other drawings. Talia's other side was conspicuously blank. Bruce's features a picture of a sixteen years old Damian leaning on the back of Bruce's computer chair, easily handing his father a cup of something warm while Bruce smiled back at him in thanks and reached for the offered drink. Dick's was blank too, Tim found it sad as fuck. Jason's featured an seventeen years old ninja clad Damian holding the Joker still while Jason held his gun to the clown's temple, it was, kind of sad too. The girls' had a fifteen years old Robin sitting with Batgirl and Blackbat in a restaurant, in full costume, eating ice cream and laughing.

 

Feeling much more knowledgeable about the last Robin, Tim put the drawings back in their file with a 'thank you for the birthday gift' note, discovering a last, smaller one stuck in the spine, of a fifteen years old Damian cooking a cake with Alfred's help and a blank back while doing so.

 

 

 

 

"Hey Tim." Selina smiled at him. "So, like your birthday gift?"

 

Tim swallowed, then nodded.

 

"What is it, baby?"

 

Breathing slowly, Tim put the drawing and necklace on the table. "You were right."

 

"Obviously, what abou- Oh." Selina stopped, starring at the items, then she very carefully examined them. "Oh, Kitty. You know it's okay, right?"

 

"He loves me."

 

Selina delicately set the 'gifts' back on the table and pulled Tim in a hug. "Yes."

 

"Mom, I'm scared." Tim sniffed. No, he couldn't just cry over that!

 

"I know, baby, I know."

 

"What if... What if hurt him? what if HE hurts me. What do I do, mom?"

 

"Now you make the hard decision, Kitty. You decide whether to trust him with your heart."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hum, you know that terrible moment when you notice you had your character do something awfully OOC? Well, I had it, over Tim objectifying Dick. I decided to make them address it instead of just going back and erasing it. Seriously, Dick getting objectified is so common that even the people who think it's wrong still do it, it's scary. (I'm sorry, Dick!)


	4. And Some Decisions Have To Be Made Eventually

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no sex scene, but the plot is rolling.

 

Tim sighed long and drawn out.

He rested a hand on the shower wall, letting the warm water slowly rid him of his character and try to soothe his tense muscles.

 

Tim winced as some of his intimate parts only tinged in response. Water would probably not be enough, he would have to either suffer through it or get out his mild numbing salve and rub it into his asshole. In a not sexy way.

 

Catlad really wasn't convinced this mark had been worth it, and his character had not been the good one for that one jackass. In the end, the sex had been worse than lackluster, and definitely too rough, enough to bruise up even Tim's well acclimated body. Tim hadn't even managed to come, and his mark had been too selfish to even notice it before they fell asleep on him.

That added to the various insults Tim had to weather since the guy had a very degrading view of dirty talk, (it took a very skilled partner and carefully set atmosphere for Tim to feel anything other than contempt and a deep wish to punch the talker when called a 'bitch',) meant he had not appreciated the encounter one bit. It had made robbing the guy and fucking up his things much more fulfilling, but really, Tim still thought he should have just knocked the guy out as soon as they got in the bedroom and be done with him.

 

The loot had been good, but not spectacular, all in all, disappointing.

 

Tim growled, grabbed his bottle of conditioner (he was trying to wash his hair less often, a trick he'd seen on a beauty blog so they would stay clean longer after each wash, so he didn't shampoo them daily, sometimes just leaving them be, sometimes only conditioning them, it was called 'conditioner wash', or something) and started rubbing it in, relaxing a bit at the familiar indulgence of taking care of his body.

Taking the time to just pamper himself for whole minutes under the warm spray of a shower was one of these things he hadn't really done when his life was going on it's Robin tailspin. He had always been so busy that anything he would do just to feel good felt like an unforgivable indulgence and got ruined by the guilt he felt for it.

 

Tim unhurriedly rinsed and stepped out of the shower, drying and sparing a moment to look himself over in the mirror (Yup, he still looked damn good), he didn't actually flex or strike a pose, but taking a moment to appreciate his form always made him feel good, before he put on his comfortable clothes.

 

Well, the sex might have been bad, but there was still his other honeypot related indulgence to enjoy... Catlad smirked, strutting for the door, already hearing the pops of popcorn his mentor was heating.

 

The glint of silver on his vanity caught his eye, giving him a pause, and Tim made a detour to it.

He already knew what it was, his gift, Damian's gift.

(Despite being almost priceless, especially so for Tim himself, who knew what it meant, it was one of the few jewelries that Tim truly appreciated that was legally his, so he almost never locked it up with the rest. As beautiful as it was to Tim's eyes, it didn't look that expensive to tempt thievery, and should law enforcement barge into his home unexpected, it wasn't incriminating him as Catlad.)

 

Even before he could put his hand on it, the sting of guilt came to him.

Tim still took the beautiful necklace in hand. Damian had put so much time and resources into this, Tim was certain making Tim feel bad was the opposite of Damian's intention when he had commissioned the piece.

It was a gift, a perfect, a beautiful, thoughtful gift, probably meant for nothing more than making him smile. Yet right then, intimate parts aching from another man's ministrations, it felt like a reminder of Tim's cowardly indecision.

 

Tim resumed his walk for the door, much more subdued, and leaned into Selina as soon as he came across her.

 

Since his mom was all kinds of awesome, she immediately spotted cat/bird pendant in his hand and cooed at him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace.

Tim hummed and listed into her, soaking up her affection while absently rubbing his fingers on the cat head in his hand.

 

"Our show is about to start. Do you want to put it on pause and talk about it?" Selina murmured. She might have been exasperated with Tim's denial, but hadn't tried to pressure him in any way since Tim had come to his conclusions about Damian's feelings. She was just there warm and caring and supportive. Tim really didn't know what he'd done to deserve her.

 

"Nah. Nothing really changed, did it?"

 

They had talked about it before, about all the reasons why being loved frightened and annoyed him. All the ways in which he would have preferred Damian's interest in him to be just lust, so he wouldn't feel like he was hurting the teen each time he planned to sleep with someone else.

He had also said how flattered he was, and how cute it was, and he'd grumbled on how he didn't want to change parts of his hard won identity and independence just because someone had feelings for him. Tim liked sleeping around, he liked staging honey traps, he loved the particular way anticipation and ulterior motives heightened his arousal (when most of the time he didn't actually need to sleep with his marks to be able to rob them blind). And yes, it was selfish, but he didn't want to give it up. Who wanted to drop a well liked hobby just because someone had feelings for them?

 

He'd shaken and cried in her lap through the realization that committing scared him so much. His last commitment had been Robin, and much as he'd loved it, Robin had destroyed so many aspects of his life and relationships.

It wasn't that Tim couldn't commit, or that his commitment was too weak. It was the opposite. When Tim committed, it was stronger than granite, stronger than even Tim himself, it took precedence over anything else, how many times had his promises and secrets as Robin threatened everything else he held dear in his life, yet he'd still held strong to his first commitment?

Tim just didn't go back on his promises. That was the whole reason he more or less pretended that 'he' (Red Robin) had died, because it made him a loophole to get out of this toxic promise of vigilantism.

 

He didn't want to make any promises. To anyone.

 

It wasn't even really about Damian himself.

 

He'd told her about the ghost of his disastrous past relationships, and the fear that if he went and let Damian love him, he'd destroy it all, but not before getting attached, not before he was sure to hurt like hell from it.

 

"I still don't want to take advantage of his feelings for a cheap fuck. I still don't want to hurt him. I'm still afraid of letting him love me. I'm still too attracted to him to just turn him down flat so he can get over me. And I still feel like an ass for just letting him live in this limbo of indecision. Now I just feel a bit like I cheated on him despite not owing him anything, and especially not faithfulness."

 

Selina sighed, taking the necklace from his hands. "If your worry is about getting attached, I'm afraid it's too late for you Kitten." She gently hooked the jewelry around Tim's neck. "If you didn't already like him back, you wouldn't care about hurting him by sleeping with others." Selina fussed with Tim's hair so it fell over the chain and checked the knotwork, making sure it laid as it should without tangles. "Sure if you knew that someone you don't really care for but respect, loved you, you would think twice about sleeping with them to avoid taking advantage, but you'd just turn them down and be done with the whole thing."

 

Tim sighed, taking the TV meal from the counter and heading for the couch. Selina was right. Tim wouldn't be indecisive if he didn't feel something special for Damian. He would just have thanked him for his feelings and told him he didn't do strings attached. He might even have slept with him just once if he was asked for it, then he would have skipped town for a clean break.

And he wouldn't be feeling guilty.

 

Selina was also right about one thing. Their 'Reality show' was about to start.

Tim sat down and put down the tray, looking at the TV screen where all his different camera bugs feeds were playing in a mosaic.

 

It was a part of the game.

 

It was mean and petty.

 

Tim loved it.

 

Especially like this day, when he still ached from clumsy, selfish sex, he reveled so much in seeing the reaction of his marks to the robbery.

 

Selina settled by his side, watching the still sleeping bastard on the bed. "So? How was it?"

 

Tim was thankful for the change of subject. He scrunched his nose "F minus. At best."

 

Selina grimaced in sympathy. "So it's why... I figured there must have been a reason for his computer to be smoking that way."

 

Tim grunted disgustedly. "I should have tied him to the bed in frilly lingerie so he had to call his underlings to come cut him out."

 

Selina chuckled. "Vicious. I like it. It would have been funny to watch..."

 

Tim grinned. "I'll keep it in mind for the next time." He turned to get the syrup, ice, water and liquors from their cabinets, and put a dozen paper sheets on a stack besides him with the pen.

 

Selina peered at the items. "Think it'll go that far?"

 

"Oh, yes. That one is a foul mouthed asshole." Tim grimaced and his hand went to the pendent around his neck. (Damian would never... oh shit...) The show still hadn't started, so he put his head on Selina's shoulder and sighed. "I kind of want to run away... Do another world tour... Avoid him."

 

She knew exactly who 'him' was, after all, Tim didn't avoid his marks. "Sounds fun. And not like it would work, but it would still be fun." Tim grunted. "But I guess it would help you get more clarity."

 

Tim hummed. Selina petted his head despite the still damp hair.

 

On the screen, the mark woke up. Tim started mixing a couple of cocktails.

Selina watched in horrified fascination as the mark saw the state of the room and the deserted bed and came to the correct conclusion about Tim's motives, immediately starting to spew three dozens of homophobic, misogynistic, degrading slurs. She counted under her breath. "... Forty... Wow."

 

Tim growled. "Yeah. I should have just knocked him out." Then he handed Selina her cocktail and the papers and pen.

 

Selina knocked back the glass, and put it on the table for a refill. "Forty-five... Damn, we're already three late."

 

Tim shook his head, downing his glass and pouring the new ones while Selina hurriedly put down the correct number of marks on the sheet. "Fifty-three..." Tim handed her the next glass and drained his. "Still three to go."

 

Selina distractedly drank and kept her tally. "Maybe we should adjust the game? Every twenty?"

 

Tim hummed. Still pouring.

 

It was one of their games, and bonding activities since Tim discovered how much he loved honey traps. He'd take a couple extra minutes to hide cameras around the room while stripping it of it's valuables, and then, he and Selina would watch the feed on the next morning and count how many degrading slurs and insults the mark said when they discovered that they had been had with sex. And they would drink for every ten slurs. And also give a grade for the originality of the insults toward Tim.

This one wouldn't clear C in that either.

 

"Seventy..." Selina called, accepting her third glass. "So, do you want to revenge sleep with him?"

 

"Seventy-five. No. too lousy in bed. but I may still seduce him. Seventy-eight. I think I'd love to tie him to the bed, gag him, then just rob him without knocking him out first, or sexing him. It would be fun."

 

When the number got past fifty, Tim liked to have 'revenge', by seducing his mark a second time the exact same way, sleeping with them again, then robbing them again. He liked the idea of driving home how stupid they were to get had the exact same way twice.

 

Selina made a face at her tally. "Okay, that's not funny anymore." She disgustedly tossed the paper and pen. "What an horrible human being." She shifted and pulled Tim so his head was in her lap. "So. Tell me, what would your first stop be for this world tour?"

 

Tim let her pull him down and place his head in her lap to play with his hair. "Hmm. I don't know. Japan? I want to have a closer look at their traditional jewelry." Tim caught the remote and halved the volume of the TV.

 

On the screen, the mark kept yelling and fuming, only distractedly watched by the Cats. He was pretty boring.

Maybe Tim would just give Barbara his stolen intel from him and not bother with him ever again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

For such a tiny country, Japan had plenty of places to sightsee.

 

Tim had made one high-coverage appearance in Tokyo. Tim Wayne, the genius former heir to his adoptive father's company who had had a burnout and disappeared from the face of the earth for five years, only to come back lazy and disabused, utterly uninterested in his company or pet projects (that his younger adoptive brother had taken up from him and skillfully kept afloat). He'd partied a bit, showed off his rich boys smarts by offending a couple influential families with well crafted, innocuous sounding insults, then faded back into the anonymity his persona liked.

 

Keeping Tim Drake Wayne alive had been another one of Tim's small shows of leftover filial loyalty to Batman. The Bats were already tittering on the edge of conspicuousness. There were too many of them with matching ages to Bruce Wayne's family, and one matching Robin death.

Not letting Red Robin and Tim disappear at the same time had been something he fought hard with Selina over, way back in the beginning. She had thought he needed a clean cut from Bruce, but he had thought he just couldn't let himself be another link for his family’s unmasking and downfall. They had compromised with the burnout and in prolonged vacation story.

 

One of the things he hadn't expected to happen was for him to become a renowned jeweler. It had, at the start, just been an useful way to fence his and Selina's thefts. He would take the particularity ugly, pure precious metal pieces and melt them down into off the shelf looking earrings that they could then pawn off at any of the gold for cash shops that seemed to pop out like mushrooms all over. The exchange rate was not the best, but the discretion made up for it.

 

Except like always, Tim had taken on an interest, and then a mastery for the craft.

 

It had stared off with diamonds. Most of them were marked and registered in one way or another so the stolen ones couldn't actually be fenced, they had to be cut again to be sold, and in doing that they got suspicious, since nowadays unmarked diamonds were pretty much only stolen ones.

 

The idea had occurred to Tim to refacet them in an old fashioned way and pass them off for family heirlooms. That big one would be miss Kennedy’s grandmother’s wedding ring; her grandpa had saved for months to buy it, the band was a bit worn, but the stone still sparkled as it should. These smaller ones were the hour marks of great uncle's watch, it didn't tick anymore, and the glass had broken, but surely it's material was still worth something right?

Finding items to embed stolen gems in had become one of Tim's hobby, garage sales and pawn shops drew his eye over toward them, no matter where he was, a brooch or a lone cufflink would suddenly call out to him and he'd buy them, planning which kind of jewel would be at home inside this little bird's eye, or on this old tie pin.

 

In this regard, Japan was very much agreeing with him. Buying old things here involved a lot more small talk, but it was also enjoyable. Tim often found himself turning someone's great-grandmother's hairpin between his fingers and describing which piece of coral could be polished back up to it's original shine and coated in resin, and where a small trail of emeralds would definitely bring up the thinly hammered lines of this leaves' veins, and how the scratched finish could be melted back into smoothness.

The owner often watching him with grateful eyes and thanking him for wanting to keep the soul of their possessions, they had to part with it, you see, but thinking of it getting melted down ripped their heart in two.

Or well, how much would he charge for doing it? Their aunt's fortieth wedding anniversary was coming up, and they hadn't had any other idea yet, but they were sure she would overjoyed to get such a meaningful gift.

 

All this was bringing an old plan back to the forefront of Tim's mind. He didn't always just go the fast and easy way, as time passed, he had crafted and sold a couple dozen intricate pieces, and he, the mysterious jeweler, was starting to garner some obscure fame and recognition in the field. Tim Drake Wayne needed an excuse for existing publicly, and making him become a small goldsmith was a good way to wrap up his burnout story.

It would bring much more scrutiny to his work, though, as churning out pieces of jewelry without ever buying source materials would raise eyebrows much too quickly, and the garage sales excuse could only be believed so long before an enterprising fiscal agent took it upon themselves to try and pin him up, expecting that busting up a Wayne would do good to his career.

Also, it made an unwelcome link between himself and Catlad.

But in the other hand, it would be a good way to launder money... He might be able to mix up his cleanly gained metals and the stolen ones and muddle the credibility... Plus, he was Bruce Wayne's son, who would doubt him if he claimed it was some old bauble of his great-grandaunt that he'd fished out of the attic and recycled?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim should have seen it coming, really.

 

Damian made the Wayne name proud with his sharp wit and stubbornness.

 

Tim suspected the only reason he hadn't been chased down earlier was because of how busy Robin was as of late.

 

Damian's birthday was only a couple of months after than Tim's, and sending him a handcrafted pair of gold, ruby and emerald embellished wrist cuffs as a gift could only do so much to assuage his suspicions over Tim's absence. Especially since he probably had discovered his missing drawing by then.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim was in Milan, lounging on the side of the pool, in his rented villa when he got confronted by an annoyed Damian Wayne.

 

It was a wonder how Damian had somehow managed to catch Tim naked twice now.

(Tim liked swimming naked, and he'd been alone in the villa. He figured if some paparazzi took pictures of him skinny dipping, it would provide him with an easy scandal to add to his name. His scars were not that visible on his already pale skin, and from the distance a pap would have to be at to snap a picture, they shouldn't show much.)

 

"You are avoiding me." Damian growled down at him.

 

Tim blinked back up at him. He had grown again, not by much, as there hadn't been that much potential height for him left to gain, but his shoulders had unfurled, and his legs lengthened even more. Which was preposterous since they had already been pretty much endless already.

 

Tim unhurriedly put his drink down and stood, mostly to gauge just how tall a nineteen Damian was. He didn't bother trying to cover anything up, but felt a flash of self-consciousness for the necklace that was the only thing he wore.

(Tim liked this necklace so much, even though it made gaining distance harder. It was a nice reminder, a cat and a hidden Robin of white gold.)

 

Damian's eyes skittered over Tim's body, making a faint blush dust his face, before he looked back to Tim's eyes and his face hardened back in anger.

 

Tim stood still for a whole minute, letting Damian's height do most of the work for him. He almost sympathized with the teen, as Tim's eyes were more or less level with his collarbone, it meant Damian could only look down at Tim, which, considering his state of dress, had to be pretty distracting.

 

But well, considering the conversation they needed to have, taunting him might not be the kindest thing for Tim to do, so he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his hips. Only to find Damian's eyes glued to his pendant, now that other distractions were gone.

 

"I thought you didn't like it." Damian spoke, face cold. "Why else would you run away just after getting it."

 

Tim cringed, feeling even worse. "I love it." he whispered, feeling his heart tighten as Damian brightened. "But, Damian. I." He stopped, inhaling deeply. "I don't love you. Not that way."

 

Damian blanched and took a step back. "You... Know."

 

"That you're in love with me? There is only so much I can stay in denial over. "

 

"And it was such a terrible prospect that you had to get halfway across the world from me."

 

Tim startled at the impassive tone, blazing eyes and still face. It had been such a long time since Tim got the ice queen treatment, he'd almost forgotten how good Damian was at it. "NO! I... I am flattered." Damian didn't even seem to acknowledge it. "Really. I do like you. But I can't. I can't promise you anything, I don't love you, I don't want to give you false hopes."

 

Damian's fists and jaw tightened. "Well, you did. I hoped you respected me enough to be honest with me and tell me these kind of things to my face and not run away leaving me to wonder what I did wrong."

 

Tim looked away. "You did nothing wrong..."

 

"Obviously I did, since you don't even want to speak to me anymore. Or even look at me in the eye. So tell me, What did I do to you to deserve this treatment?"

 

Tim's eyes whipped back up to Damian's. His face was cold and still, except for his lower eyelids, twitching with leashed rage. "I am the only who did wrong, don't you see it?" Tim yelled, getting to his tiptoes to equalize their sizes. "If I had known then that you felt that way, I would never have offered. I don't take advantage from good people like that. Especially not when they are six years younger than me, in love with me, and barely legal!"

 

Damian stumbled back a step. "You." His face contorted. "You regret it." He breathed loudly, settling his face back to cold impassivity. "One of my most treasured memories and YOU _REGRET_ IT!" Tim stumbled back, hitting his lounge chair and falling back to a sitting position. Damian didn't give him more time though, crowding and looming over him.  
"Let me clear something up for you, since you're too conceited to see it on your own. I _never_  would have said yes if I didn't love you then, I would have been annoyed at you. You might think you're irresistible, but I don't let people I don't like touch me. Do you think so lowly of me that you just assume I'd let anyone take advantage of me? Do you think I am so weak-willed that I can't tell you no just because I have feelings for you?"

 

Tim set his jaw. "I don't want to do that to you, lead you on when I don't love you back, I am stepping back to let you get over me, can't you see it?"

 

"And have you considered that I don't want to get over you? Have you considered that I can make my own choices? Have you considered that maybe loving you is worth the suffering it could bring me, and that anyway I am the only one allowed to decide who I love? Have you considered that maybe I was the one who took advantage of your generosity and ignorance that day?" Damian stepped back and sniffed haughtily. "Obviously you have no respect for me at all if you believe I can't chose for myself. But if you do not want to see me, I won't stay any longer."

 

Damian turned around and stormed off. Leaving Tim cold in a warm autumn day that now seemed too bright and stripped from all colors at once.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Tim's phone pinged with a voice-mail from the USA. He did have cell coverage, so whomever had sent it didn't even try calling him.

 

"If you tell me you don't want my love, I will stop subjecting you to proofs it." Damian's voice informed him primly. "But as long as your only reason to refute me is your lack of reciprocity, I will not be deterred."  
"Tell me you don't want me to love you, face to face, honestly, without any excuse, and I will try my best to stop looking at you with love in my eyes. As long as you don't, I will keep on loving you, even if you never reciprocate."

 

There wasn't any polite words around it, just the female sounding robot voice droning on about how to archive the message.

 

Tim swallowed and hit the key she was listing.

 

He hung up and hid his face in his hands.

 

God, why couldn't he just do it? It would be so easy, take a flight to Gotham and tell Damian off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian is fucking stubborn, okay.


	5. Thanksgiving Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends! Here, have a chapter as a gift!
> 
> Things get NSFW in there toward the end. If anyone wants to ski it, know there is some plot in it, especially starting from like, the las ten lines in the chapter...

 

 

* * *

 

 

At this point, going out and getting laid was a matter of pride more than anything.

 

Which probably explained why Tim had already spent 200% of the time he'd normally even stay in the club at all just scoping out potential one-night stands.

 

He'd gone the whole nine yards for this one, tight leather pants, one inch heels (square because he might have excellent balance, he still loved his feet and ankles enough to want to preserve them), crop-top, mesh singlet, foundation, contour, eyeliner, eyeshadow, a bit of lipstick, a pride flag highlighter on one cheekbone, pan on the other. With that, people had to know what he was here for.

(And if some asshole tried to attack him in a street for the crime of being ‘gay’ when he got out of the club, he’d take great pleasure kicking their face in.)

 

Yet here he was, lounging against the bar of this London club, answering a lusty overture from a good looking jock with a blunt "It depends, will you let me fuck you?" Which, generally, didn't have great results.

 

Not all beefy gay or gay curious men were mounds of repressed homophobic and misogynistic assumptions who would take exception from a lither man asking if they were willing to bottom. But those that were tended to be particularly sanguine about it.

The one in question did not turn violent, but found a made up reason to be not talking to Tim.

 

Tim sighed, trying not to think about toxic masculinity because he'd already had a few glasses and he might actually start to rant out loud if he spent more than one minute contemplating the misguided notion that a man was universally expected to only stick his dick in either a woman or a man less built than themselves.

It wasn't even that he was running out of options to find someone who'd have less bulk than him, Tim did have the physique of a marathoner, he might be a bit short, but he definitely had muscles in all the right places. It was just that he felt like enjoying the solidity and anchor of solid muscles and a large built under his hands. And in the past years he'd been either sleeping with women who expected him to top, but were not quite equipped to get the same raw kind of pleasure from anal as men could, (he did enjoy vaginal sex alright but the sensations were different enough for him to get specific cravings,) or sleeping with men and generally letting them top him because it was the easier not to threaten their delicate masculinity by even suggesting Tim could also do the topping part and just roll over on his back.

Additionally, he had quite enough of toxic masculinity when he was sexing people for a sting not to want to deal with it when he went out on his pleasure time for casual civilian sex. Was it too much to ask to get a solid, good looking partner who didn't get stupid about misguided notions of sexual superiority because they spent hours at the gym?

 

He threw back his drink and aimed for the exit. He generally should have been able to get what he wanted either way, he was good at reading people like that. So the fact that he hadn't yet probably meant that he didn't really want it enough to put true efforts toward it.

 

He still felt pretty strung up and restless. Maybe he could wander the streets in his clubbing attire and see if there was any street harasser in need of a good beating who'd try annoying him. It might not be sex, but it would at least be pretty satisfying.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes, life as an extra acrobatic cat burglar wasn't quite as glamorous as one would picture it.

 

Tim yawned and rested his head against the window, letting the slight massage of the window try to keep him awake. He didn't truly have anything he needed to do, all his research was done, he knew his primary plan and all the back-ups by heart; he didn't expect any particular difficulties, but the train did run through the tracks and the place he had to disembark at wasn't at the end of the line, so falling asleep might end up with him waking up ten hours too late in the Scotlands.

 

His Catlad grin broke through his face.

His heist... It was going to be so satisfying. He was going alone against a reasonably dangerous drug lord that had had the intelligence to aim for relatively modest neighborhoods no one would bother him for.

 

What Tim was after was the collection of extremely gaudy, chunky pure gold jewelries his wife was found of purchasing, and the ridiculously expensive computer set he'd just acquired.

Computer weren't usually a good target, but Tim wasn't stealing this one to use it as it was. There were a good few component inside of it that weren't theft locked and that Tim would be able to re-purpose for his gadgets. As for the hard drive.... Tim could always drop it off at Interpol.

 

This was going to be a a true B&E, Tim might even break a window, and he was giddy just thinking about it. It had been a while since he'd gone for a proper burglary.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, Tim gave in and came back to Gotham for Thanksgiving.

Duke had asked him, and Tim had a soft spot for the kid.

 

Well... Duke had been a busybody and used Alfred's influence and Dick's reckless tendencies to engineer a trap and force Tim to come for Thanksgiving. There was a good reason why Tim had a soft spot for the kid.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thanksgiving dinner was... Strange.

 

Half of it was taken with Tim's joy for being, for the first time in five years, back at a seat at the same table as his siblings with both his adoptive parents for the familial occasion, and the other half was stressed out from having to sit in all the tensions floating in the room.  


And tensions there were.

 

Of course, all the Tim centered ones: the remaining coldness between him and Bruce, despite their last clash being a whole year ago. The all but tangible disappointment from Alfred (that he conveyed by making sure Tim was well cared for, to make up for the lost time. It was almost worse than getting scolded). And, obviously, the cold shoulder Damian had been giving him from the moment they came into the same room (Tim suspected he was acting that way because he was afraid this was the moment when Tim would tell him he did reject his courting. Tim should, but he still couldn't make himself take this decision).

 

There was also the thinly veiled animosity, though still draped in sexual tension sparking between Selina and Bruce, they had slept together a good few times since Tim became Catlad, but apparently, having Tim in the room with them reminded each other of their griefs over Tim's custody. (Selina being resentful for Bruce's poor care, and Bruce being resentful for Tim being 'stolen', never-mind that Tim was twenty-four and was now an independent adult under no-one's custody.)

 

And then there were all the other tensions around the room that didn't have anything to do with Tim (or at least he didn't think it did). Tim regretted not to have been keeping up with the family gossip, because he didn't have a clue what had transpired between Dick, Babs and Jason. Tim's assumption for now was that Dick had done something stupid that had gotten Barbara angry at him, but had only made Jason fondly exasperated. So probably stupid, reckless and needlessly destructive.

Jason might have gotten closer to the family and gotten a bit less unruly with the years, but he was still a bit of an agent of chaos, mayhem and explosions were a sure way into his heart.

 

Things would probably have gotten out of hand around the dinning table if Alfred's cooking hadn't been quite as delicious. Or if Alfred hadn't been sitting at the table with them.

There had been quite a bit of wheedling and blackmail involved into getting Alfred to sit with them like a member of the family rather than the valet he always insisted he was. It involved Jason threatening to go back home and eat sad Chinese take-out alone in his apartment.

 

Alfred... Alfred was getting old. It seemed preposterous that such a thing could ever happen to their unflappable butler, yet here it was, hair bright white and bald spot getting bigger, wrinkles along his face, slower movements. It was striking when compared to the old photographs, especially those of Dick as a kid.

 

Tim let Alfred try to stuff him with turkey, and chatted with Steph to help himself ignore the heavy atmosphere. Steph being the human miracle that Tim knew her to be, actually managed to make him laugh and forget all about the many other things happening around them.

At some point, Steph's ability to make him laugh meant that a start of friendly conversation was able to emerge, and people started to join in along them. It wasn't really that all the griefs were forgotten, but they felt pretty firmly shelved until a time that wasn't the first real family meal they had all managed to get in more than five years.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim sat in his old bedroom at the manor, he knew that at the moment, almost everyone else who had attended the dinner was down in the cave, preparing for a slightly late patrol. Tim was very firmly going to not be joining them. That was part of the promises he had made more to himself than Selina.

 

The things here were all pretty nostalgic, but he couldn't let himself get sucked in emotionally by it. He had come for a few reasons, and Duke's cunning was only one of these.

 

He had to treat the Damian situation.

He had a plan.

It was horrible and cruel, but it was a plan.

 

He sent a text to Damian's phone asking him to come to his room. Damian night try to totally avoid Tim so he couldn't get rejected, but considering the content of their conversation in Milan, that was unlikely, so the only real question was whether he'd excuse himself from patrol (after a thanksgiving dinner, it wouldn't be that hard to justify), or if he'd come over when he got back.

 

Either way, he might as well get ready right away.

 

 

 

 

Damian didn't knock, Tim didn't really expect him to, he'd never been much for courteous gestures. The fact that he'd decided to play hooky on his patrol rather than wait a few hours before confronting Tim was probably a sign of how agitated this situation was making him.

Damian had the most guarded expression on, and Tim was already feeling bad for what he was planning to do to him.

 

Tim smiled and gestured to his bed. "Come, we need to talk about this thing between us."

 

Damian made the face that used to make him look just like a pug when he was younger. It was looking much less unwittingly cute on his young adult face. The effect would probably be pretty Batman like if his lips weren't quite so plump. As it was, he was landing closer to a pout. Tim refrained from putting his hands on Damian's cheeks, that was pretty much the opposite of what he should be doing.

 

He sighed and sat on the bed. "Okay, starting from a not angry at me start, tell me all the reasons why I shouldn't just reject you."

 

Damian's frown shifted more toward unimpressed. "Because you do want me and are attracted to me. I'm attracted back to you, there is no reason to complicate things more than that. You're making up stupid reasons why I shouldn't want anything to do with you, and that is my decision to make, not yours. I am willing to work around any reservations you have or character flaw you have, but I'm not willing to let anyone make my decisions for me."

Tim very consciously didn't interrupt. "If you want to reject me because of my character flaws, that would be a different story." Damian looked down and away, as he spoke which... what. "I can understand not feeling comfortable having me love you because you believe it'll push me to act in unsavory way. I wouldn't appreciate hearing it, but I would respect it. I swear to you I definitely don't want to ask for anything more than you are willing to give. I don't think loving you entitles me to anything from you, I am not expecting you to reciprocate my feelings, I just would like to... at least still flirt like we've been doing for years now."

 

"No sex?" Tim couldn't help asking.

 

"Well... If you were to offer, sure." The look Damian shot him then was dryer than a desert. "You are aware I've been attracted to you at least since I was sixteen, right? But I am a proponent of full and enthusiastic consent. Sex is not something anyone has the right to ever expect from anyone. But you can consider yourself to have a standing invitation to it from me unless I say otherwise."

 

Well. Way to make Tim feel even worse about what he was planning to do.

 

"So just to be clear. You are willing to keep up our previous status-quo forever, and never expect anything to happen, not ask for exclusivity, and settle for just flirting and the not guaranteed occasional sex if I never return your feelings?" Tim asked, probably letting a bit of his disbelief show. Damian looked determined as he nodded. "Why? No one is that self sacrificing. What's your plan with this? Why can't you accept that I am not a good person to love and move on?"

 

"Move on to where?" Damian cut him angrily. "Deathstoke?"

 

Tim blinked dumbly. "Dea... Okay, no! Why Deathstroke? What in this conversation made you think of Deathstroke?"

 

Damian dropped down on the other end of the bed and turned his head away, lips pursed. "Because... Because that's,besides you, he's pretty much the only other non-fictional person I've ever felt a sliver of true attraction to. Unless you are willing to count the minute long flashes of interest I got for a few heroes or villains over the years. I can admit to it. My preferences are... problematic. Aside from you, the only people that wouldn't be incredibly bad ideas to pursue were either mooning hard over Grayson or were just the briefest flights of fancy that faded as soon as I got to know them, sometimes both at once, sometimes everything at once. And even counting all of these, I barely reach twenty persons I ever got interested in since I started puberty. I'd rather not die a virgin. Again. And I have absolutely no guaranty I'll ever get half as attracted to anyone else as I am to you."

 

Tim slumped and rubbed at his brow. That did complicate things. "I thought you didn't expect sex?" He mumbled, he threw his hands up when he saw Damian narrow his eyes dangerously and grit his teeth. "No, don't. I know. Shit. Fine. I can get not wanting to give up on the only viable crush you have available for the foreseeable future. Though I don't see what these problematic preferences of yours could be that puts me and Deathstroke in the same category."

 

Tim pouted, but Damian just shot him a flat look. "You don't? Because from where I am, I can see plenty of qualities you share." Tim's eyebrows lifted at Damian's choice of word. "I see two incredibly talented fighters who are incredibly smart, self-confident, rightly so and ruthless when they have reasons to be. I was raised in the League of Assassins, it seems I'm still conditioned to find that desirable." The faintest smile haunted the teen's lips before he continued. "But you are also a very compassionate person, and I'm pretty sure that is the reason I am in love with you and only have the faintest sexual interest in Wilson. Which, frankly, even after his magical age-regression thing, I have no desire to act on anyway. He's another one of these people with way too much of a fixation on Grayson for me to actually consider."

 

Tim couldn't help the snort at Damian's disgusted face. "And I am not?"

 

Damian glanced at him. "No, maybe you did once, but I could always tell you didn't actually mean the comments you made about him. You see him as a brother." Tim sighed, allowing the point, and trying to think about what to say. Damian didn't give him the time, though. "I must apologize. I lost my temper. I shouldn't have told you you were the only one. It was never my intention to trap you or guilt you into accepting my affection."

 

He shifted to stand, but Tim stopped him with a hand on the arm. "No. I couldn't have trusted your intentions if you hadn't told me. I would have suspected you of lying about not expecting anything from me. Now I get why you're willing to be so self-effacing about this whole thing." Tim swallowed. So now was the moment to be an awful person. Ruthless? Yes, yes he could be. And he was just about to prove it. "You have to understand that I can't just take your words as face value, though."

 

Damian scowled. "Don't you trust my word?"

 

Tim smile was strained. "Oh, I trust that you do believe what you're telling me. But there is a difference between spoken words and acts. I'm going to make you prove you mean it."

 

Damian grimaced a bit, but soon he straightened his back and shoulder, looking every bit of the confident and almost arrogant young man he still sometimes was. His eyes though, were completely earnest. "I am willing to prove myself to you, Timothy"

 

Well. There it went. "What I am most concerned about is your ability to truly consent to anything with me. As you stated, you have been in love with me since before you even became legal, and I am five years older than you are. And none of what you said to me today goes to disprove my fears."

 

Damian's eye flashed wide at the accusation. "Are you accusing yourself of taking advantage of me again? I died at thirteen, Timothy, age difference is hardly relevant to someone with my life experience."

 

"Prove it." Tim countered. In a swift movement, he removed his shirt, and crawled down over the bed until he was right up in Damian's space.

 

Damian stared at him. "How?"

 

Tim smiled one of his mysterious Catlad smiles and slowly moved himself until he was straddling the teen. "Well. I thought..." He ran his hand up a black-clothed arm and grabbed at Damian's shoulder. "That the ability to consent comes with..." Tim's face was close enough to Damian's that they were all but kissing already. Damian had most definitely not moved away. He was kind of leaning toward Tim, actually. Well. Too bad. "The ability to say no." Tim finished in a whisper right against Damian's lips.

 

Damian's pretty blue-green eyes widened in shock or horror, right as he leaned away from Tim. "No." His voice sure sounded horrified and angry.

 

Tim felt himself break a little inside even as he smiled widely. "So here are the terms of the test." Tim rose fluidly to his feet an pulled lube and condoms from the bedside table's drawer where he'd put them in prevision to this very test. "If you stay in this room, I will have sex with you." He kept his back to Damian as he pushed his pants down past hips hips and let them slip down his legs. He stepped out of the puddle of fabric at his feet, turning at the same time. Slowly, so Damian could appreciate just how flattering the red and black designs on his silk boxers were.

 

Damian squirmed, looking definitely pink in the face. His gaze was wandering up and down Tim's body with unmistakable heat and both his hands were white-knuckled from the force with which he clenched his fists.

 

"In that case," Tim added, gesturing to his body with one hand while he braced his other on one hip and shifted his weight on a single leg, "you get to stay until morning. Anything you want, I'm absolutely prepared to not sleep a wink until daybreak." Damian actually squeaked. "And then that's it. You get out, and we never have anything approaching sex again. No kisses, no touches, not even talking about feelings or attraction. Done. I would lose all respect in you if you willingly slept with me knowing that my conditions were once and done, then tried to go for more anyway."

 

Damian sucked a breath in, then swallowed. Tim stared at him expectantly until he nodded his understanding.

 

"Or." Tim started up again, bending back over the nightstand, and pulling a few toys that he let Damian see as he set them next to the lube and condoms. "You could get out. And you get nothing. No promise of future sex or feelings. No commitments, no promises to stay in Gotham not promises of exclusivity. Nothing but the right to... court me." Tim vaulted over the edge of the bed to sprawl on his covers in the most alluring way he could. "Just to be clear, the first option is validated as chosen the moment there is a skin to skin contact on the crotch region. But you get until the morning to change your mind about option two, just come back in here and start up, and I'll count it."

 Tim reached for the lube bottle and glanced at Damian quizzically. "Do you understand the terms?"

 

Damian growled, standing up and pacing at the end of the bed. "Yes. Obviously I do." Damian growled, face moving like he'd tasted something particularly foul. "As expected from you it is a very thorough, clever and ruthless plan." Tim was impressed about how, even with a tightly clenched jaw, he still managed to make this sound like a compliment rather then an insult. He stalked right next to the bed. "I wasn't expecting you to be quite this cruel, but then I guess I do deserve it."

 

Tim abruptly sat up, intending to deny Damian's words, but he was stopped dead by the firm and decisive set in the teen's eyes and face.

Frankly, Tim hadn't actually expected Damian to take him up on the once then done offer. But the predatory gaze was making him rethink his assumptions.

 

Damian huffed a sigh. "Alright." And with that he caught the sides of his shirt and, slowly enough for it to be intentional, tugged the hem upward, flexing all his hard earned muscles with the movement.

 

And.

 

That was the first time Tim actually saw Damian shirtless since... Since he was a kid, basically, and even then, he wasn't so sure; the deliciously tanned skin that came from his mother's genes stretched, mate and perfect anywhere Tim could see. Because Damian Wayne was, of course, too perfect to be cultivating pimples like other teenagers (though to be fair, Tim had also managed to skip the pimple stage altogether).

Tim changed gears in his plans pretty much instantly. There was a part of him that was already mourning the 'just one night' rule, but that part was minor compared to the one that was insisting that Tim's hands needed to be on Damian's skin right NOW.

 

Damian expertly slotted himself between his legs, bending down to kiss Tim just as Tim's hand started running his finger along the warm, supple skin of his sides. Damian grunted and pushed Tim back down under his full body weight, nudging Tim's legs wider with his still much too clothed hips.

Tim growled into the kiss and slid his hands back forth to undo Damian's fly and get him appropriately naked. Damian kind of hummed in response, then, with an impressive display of core strength, held himself hovering without support and caught both of Tim's wrists and pinned them to the pillows.

 

Tim pouted with disappointment, but really, it was hard to hold with a hot, wet tongue teasing at his lips, and he relaxed into the restraint with a muttered "kinky" that made his bedmate chuckle. Tim had trouble at this point deciding if it was the chuckle that was sexy, or the fact that it was making hot breath puff against his lips.

 

They kissed and bucked against one another for a few minutes, then Damian rose up, smirked, and transferred both of Tim's wrists to be held in one of his hands. That smirk was promising so many things, and Tim found himself wanting every single one of them.

 

He enthusiastically moved into the tongue traveling down his chest, jolted when Damian's free hand started massaging his thigh. He keened when the descending mouth stopped over his silk covered erection.

 

Tim was pretty sure he was about to lose his mind. Still, he half-sat to be able to see Damian's head over the crossed arms held somewhat securely over his stomach. Tim chocked a bit when Damian decided to simply lick the whole thing, boxers included. Of course Damian would know how good wet silk felt on someone's privates. It was the kind of thing you could only verify in person if you were able to afford at least a pair of them, but Damian was a Wayne, of course he could.

 

This was the point where he started begging. He wasn't actually sure what for, be the pleases and the whispered Damis seemed to please his lover.

 

Except when Tim felt himself draw tight and babbled about coming, Damian pulled back.

Tim whined and arched, but he couldn't eve bring himself to hate Damian for the tease, not with how pretty a picture he made, saliva glistening over his lips and chin, hair in disarray, and still smirking like he knew something Tim didn't.

 

With a swift move, Tim found himself handled around so he was on his knees, back facing Damian and hands now trapped behind his back. Tim swallowed as Damian pulled him flush against his pectorals, and yeah, that was a turn on of his, broad muscled chest pressing against his shoulder-blades. It wasn't like it was uncommon a preference in any way.

 

"Did you prep for this?" Damian asked, voice incredibly husky against the shell of his ear.

 

Tim shook his head. "Not enough time." He justified. "Nowadays I don't usually need much prep anyway"

 

Damian hummed then reached around Tim for the discarded lube bottle and uncapped it. "I guess we will have to make do, then." Came the thoughtful answer, accompanied with the seemingly too loud sound of a zipper going down. Tim held his breath even as Damian shoved him forth again to be able to reach the beside table where Tim had put the condoms. So this was happening. "Do you want me inside you right away, Timothy? Or do you think it can wait?"

 

Tim's breath caught a little. He blamed it on hearing his full name in bed, that wasn't actually something that happened to him often. Or ever. Then he thought of the question. Ugh. "Yes. Now. Please, Dami, come on." He panted down into the pillow, all the while consciously refraining his urge to try and tug his arms free from Damian's grasp.

 

Damian hummed again, right behind Tim's ear. "You can do better, Timothy, I'm sure you can beg for real. Tell me how much you want it. You've already had it in your mouth, right, how good do you think it'll feel?"

  
Tim hadn't really expected things to go that way, but it was a fairly common kink, and he was pretty used to it, so he just went with it. It wasn't like narrating sex facts was much of a hassle anyway. "Please, Damian, I want it, I want to feel your hot cock inside me, please. Please fill me up, come on, fuck me into the mattress."

 

Damien snorted. SNORTED. Then there was wet sound and Tim felt fairly cold lube land in the dip of his spine at the small of his back, then start to drip around. "No." He chuckled. "I'm not a self-interested full of themselves asshole, Timothy. I can tell that was generic off the rack statement. Maybe try with a bit more sincerity, hmm?"

 

Tim huffed in the bedding. "It's not off the rack." He defended. "I do adjust the name and the adjective before cock to the situation."

 

This time Damian started actually laughing. "Oh, hells, Timothy, you're horrible at this. The fact that you adjusted and the only adjective you found to use was hot doesn't seem that complimentary, you know." The way Damian's lips wandered down Tim's shoulder told him he wasn't really offended despite his words.

 

Tim would feel affronted, but he guessed Dami was right. Hot was a good adjective, though, it was very fit-all. Then again, he guessed that was the problem. It was fair. If it was the only time ever, Tim could actually make an effort to be sincere.

 

"Well. I mean, it's either that or a size comment. And truthfully, you're average. " Damian made a strangled sound before his forehead came to rest on Tim's back. He almost apologized, then he correlated the sound with the tremors and understood that Damian was laughing, so it was probably still all good. "But I find the fixating in size thing stupid anyway. Some of the worst sex I ever had was with overly endowed people, so it's a pretty good thing for you." Damian made more noises. "Anyway, aside from the feeling of getting fucked, what's going to set you apart is having your vigilante grown muscles pressing up against me."

 

"Yes?" Damian chuckled, still sounding very amused. "Still want my hot average cock inside you, then?" He teased.

 

Tim twisted to shoot a disbelieving look over his shoulder. "Duh. Yes. Now would you chose? Because I can do flattering or honest, but both at the same time is a bit against my nature."

 

"What? Nothing?" Damian kept teasing lightly.

 

"Ugh. Okay, whatever. Damian, come on, I want to come with your average cock inside me, and feel you lose it inside me because of how good it feels for you." Tim rooted around some more for stuff to say. "I'm so close to coming already with your teasing and that damn wet silk all over, I mean, seriously, couldn't you have watched the lube, it's soaking down in my ass crack... Hum. Yeah, I might come right away, just from being filled. You'll be able to feel me spasm down on you, I think that might be enough to make you come, but then to be sure we'd have to GET ON WITH IT!"

 

Damian was still snickering. "I like the soaking effect, personally." One broad finger made it to Tim's ass, stroking a cheek, then pressing the wet, smooth material down in the crease. Tim shuddered when that finger started to rub the silk down over his hole, then gasped. "I guess you made an okay case of it, though..." Tim sighed in relief and started gathering his knees to ease the underwear removal. Except then Damian finished his sentence with. "Such a shame we have to table it for next time though. "

 

Tim blinked, bewildered. What. Oh, no, that was so unfair. But true to his word, Damian didn't move to remove the sodden article of clothing., instead, Tim felt a distinctly dick-shaped object press into the wet silk of the boxers between Tim's butt-cheeks, then start a back and forth.

 

"I would have loved to take you up on that. But you made the rules of this test, Timothy." Tim gasped, trying to make sense of words while his body was trying to tell him sex should be happening a bit more thoroughly now.

 

There was less than a minute of rocking, Tim feeling a bit of the heat through his underwear, and the slap of clothed thighs behind his. Then Damian grunted and he felt a splash of warmth over his back, that could only really be one thing.

 

Damian huffed and went a little limp for a while, but it was pretty short, and then the weigh lifted and Tim's wrist were freed.

 

Damian stepped back, he was already tucked back by the time Tim turned to see him. "For now." Damian added with that same smirk he'd been sporting right from the moment he came close to Tim. "This will have to do." Tim starred at the dildo that was extended to him. When? When reaching for condoms? He'd planned that? "Have a lovely night, Timothy. And think about me while you take care of this." There was a pointed look at Tim's erection. "You can keep my shirt, I think it must smell at least a bit like me. If memories serves right, that's something you like?"

 

Tim blinked, still unsure of why Damian was so fucking smug and walking for the door?

 

"I will be looking forward to doing what you described next time." Damian grinned.

 

Next time? There was no... Oh. Tim glanced from his wrecked but there boxers to Damian's pants and inventoried everything that had happened. No. No skin to skin crotch contact. Damian had found a loophole.

Tim hurled the dildo at the smug brat's head, but Damian managed to close the door behind him before it could connect.

 

Tim slumped back in the bed, taking stock of his incredibly aroused state, of the cum painting his skin, which was also a turn on to him, the quiet laugh from behind the door and dildo lying on the ground.

 

Whatever.

He guessed as long as Damian didn't come back, he had passed the test.

Tim should have actually thought the terms of his test in details before-hand rather than improvise them on the spot, so that oversight was on him.

 

He couldn't even find it in him to grumble, getting outsmarted on an harmless subject wasn't that upsetting. It was pretty refreshing, in fact. And really, it had been a nice experience, if way too short.

 

For now, Tim had a raging problem to take care of.

He didn't bother to get a toy, hands would do. But he did push his mouth against his shoulder to keep form saying Damian's name in case the insufferable teen was lurking right behind the door listening. That would be so not the point of the test. But then again, he guessed the test had been pretty thoroughly unpointed already.

 


	6. Courtship's Hardships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hum. I think I'm going to flunk NaNo this year. Still going to try my best, but... The heart just isn't there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim woke up to the smell of coffee and breakfast.

That, that was unusual.

 

He opened his eyes to see Damian one-handedly clearing the nearest bedside table to Tim from the sexy paraphernalia that Tim had forgotten to remove before he crashed and putting a tray down. "Good morning, beloved" Damian smiled at him.

 

Tim had a brain malfunction for a moment, then he remembered that he'd slept in the manor for Thanksgiving and that he'd put Damian to a test for the right to court him in the night. That was Damian courting him.

He had the urge to revoke that right. Tell Damian that he'd cheated, anything to get him to not call him 'beloved'. But the temptation waned when his gaze landed on the breakfast tray.

 

Had he grown up in any other family, the fact that Damian got everything perfect could have been creepy, but spying on everyone around yourself, particularly if you appreciate them was an acquired habit that Tim had also inherited from Bruce, so it wasn't like he could actually complain.

 

Seemingly unaware of Tim's mini-freakout, Damian checked the color of the water in the french press, gave it a small stir, glanced at Tim, then disappeared in Tim's en-suite bathroom from which he came back with a couple of towels.

 

Tim blinked dumbly when Damian handed him a damp, hot towel and set the other, dry one on the edge of the bed. "Should I take that as an insult?" He tried. He had slept without taking a shower first, so even if it was, he couldn't complain.

 

"Just cleaning after myself." Damian answered with the most irritating smirk ever.

 

Tim seriously considered slapping him in the face with the wet towel, but it seemed like it would be a waste of such a nicely warm object.

He had a moment where he wondered if this was what his whole life was going to look like now that he'd given Damian the permission to be affectionate toward him. The thought managed to be daunting and so tantalizing at once.

 

B

 

ut the towel was cooling as he was having revelations. Tim shelved the train of thoughts and started wiping at the patches of dried semen over himself.

Tim caught the tail-end of an admiring once-over when he glanced up. Seeing the habits he'd cultivated, Tim would probably have preened to flaunt his looks, but Damian, abruptly turned back to the tray and busied himself with finishing and pouring the coffee.

Tim studied his new suitor as he put in exactly the amount of sugar Tim would chose for himself and stirred the cup.

 

No matter the arrogant comments he'd been spouting, Damian's body was speaking of stress and fear.

 

Tim sucked in a breath at his discovery. Of course, Damian would be terrified, it was his first ever open gesture of courtship, plus he had reason to believe Tim could still be angry at him for last night. And just like that Tim was half afraid and totally mollified again. Things had to be much worse for the teen than they were for him. "Why the french press? There's a coffee machine downstairs."

 

"I wanted to give you really fresh coffee." Damian answered like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tim felt his heart do something strange at how cute the young hero was being. And then Damian went and ruined it. "So, do you want to keep my shirt, or can I have it back."

 

Tim had the urge to throw something (maybe the shirt in question) at Damian again. (He wondered if these urges to throw stuff at his young suitor's head was going to go away, or if it was a normal, long-term reaction to being in the same general vicinity as him.

 

"No, it's mine now." He settled for instead.

 

The smug smirk made a return. Damian stood, reached for Tim's hand, and made the most archaic reverence, ending it by a kiss on the back of Tim's hand. He winked, straightened back up, gathered the french press and sugar bowl, made another little dip, and turned for the door.

 

Tim stared at him dumbfounded. So that was it. Damian had just... Casually brought him a breakfast in bed. And he was leaving, just like that.

Tim could already foresee a headache-inducing string of casual affective gesture.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There were things Tim had expected. There were others he hadn't.

 

Jason leaning across his apartment’s door as he went out for groceries was of the later.

 

"You are aware that not everybody systematically goes on the Bat sanctioned patrols every night, right?" Jason hummed at him.

 

It wasn't so hard to connect that sentence with some recent events. "Am I about to get a shovel talk?"

 

Jason sighed. "No. The kid is happy, and even if you do break his heart eventually, I guess it would still at least serve to get him over you."

 

"So." Tim tried. "You... Heard things and came there to tell me that. ... You expect me to hurt Damian now?"

 

"No, I came to to give you friendly heads-up that unless your goal is to make everyone awfully uncomfortable, you should avoid yelling descriptive stuff about genital parts while in your room. I suspect it Dick would be much more disturbed by it than me, and his room is actually closer to yours than mine..."

 

Tim did blush at least a bit. "And you are alright with it."

 

"Kind of. Kid's been throwing himself at you for years, I got used to the thought. Don't expect to see me sucking face with anyone of the clan, but I can live with the knowledge that you sexed my baby brother on Thanksgiving night. I'd prefer not having to, but I won't die from the knowledge."

 

Tim frowned. "For the record, that wasn't the plan."

 

Jason stared at him then laughed. "I think I'll have to congratulate the brat then. It'll make him squirm, it might be fun." Jason turned around and did that awfully douchey thing where he waved over his shoulder as he walked away and said his last line just before the elevator door closed. "Maybe give him an actual chance, kid's matured a lot since you went away."

 

Tim glared at the descending elevator. "Thank you captain obvious. Also nice manners. It wasn't like I was going to use the elevator too."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim absolutely hadn't thought things through when he'd given Damian leave to court him.

It wasn't that he disliked the systematic courting that Damian had decided to use, truthfully, it was very sweet.

 

But.

 

Seriously.

 

Just how corny could Damian get?

 

Tim slammed his tools down and stalked to his window. "Really?"

 

Damian paused and looked up at Tim. "What is it, beloved?"

 

"Really? Really? Are you seriously playing violin under my window? Just how cheesy do you intend to be?"

 

"Do you dislike my playing?" Damian asked, looking crestfallen and smug at the same time. Tim was regretting his life choices more and more.

 

"That is so not the point!" Tim took a deep breath and looked around. There were at least five persons on the street gawping at them. It couldn't be much more than three minutes before someone recognized Damian's face and understood that the romantic fool serenading the quiet and unassuming person Tim pretended to be around his home was in fact Damian Wayne. Tim sighed. "Come in."

 

He just didn't turn fast enough to miss Damian's victorious smirk. Tim stomped over to his intercom to buzz him in.

He waited at his door for his young suitor with crossed arms and a frown.

 

Damian smiled at him when he crossed the threshold, looking perfectly unabashed with his faint smile and the offending violin and bow loosely held in his hands. "Do I get a kiss, beloved?"

 

"No." Tim fought not to let go of his stern frown at the face of the kicked puppy expression Damian answered with. "Are you going to keep doing that for long?"

 

"Well." Damian answered softly. "I was considering until the day I die as a deadline. How long that would be is a very vague outline, I am conscious."

 

And just like that, he managed to steal all the wind out of Tim's sails. Which he'd like to be able to be angry over, but couldn't really be. "Fine." He growled. "You can play your stupid violin for me. But do chose something a bit less sickeningly romantic while I'm working."

 

Damian did another of theses smug smirks that Tim was fairly sure he'd never be able to run away from. "As you wish, love. May I ask for a request?"

 

Tim made a face. Love? Seriously. "And tone the pet-names down." He rooted for a music he liked that would sound good on violin and added it on.

 

Damian made a pained face. "As you wish..." (Who had decided to make him watch Princess Bride?! Tim had the very serious urge to murder Dick all of a sudden.) Damian took out his phone and spent a minute tapping and swiping before he put it back away and started playing in the intro of the song.

 

Tim went back to his work. By the time Damian asked him for another request he'd eased into the sound and naturally asked for another one of his favorite. It WAS nice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Catlad leaped over the edge of a building, soared over the gap Nightwing style, tucked and rolled, and took off running once again, readying his garrote to be able to whip it out at an anchor for his next leap.

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned when he saw Robin still well in pursuit.

 

Hmm, interesting.

 

After his next roof, he dove down rather than keep being up top. Let Damian actually work to keep up with him.

He swooped down almost at level with the street, unhooked his garrote and rolled on the floor. The few very brave Gothamites still strolling at this late hour stared at him. Tim winked and waved with his best flirty grin before diving in an alley and booking it.

 

He could almost feel the weight of the precious stones in the pouch at his hip.

 

He felt so very alive. Panting for breath, heart hammering away, muscles aching from their hard work... Tim smiled even wider and leaped for a fire escape, using it to hoist himself up and away. He ran up two flights of fire escape, blew a kiss to the little boy who startled behind his window when he saw him, winked, and climbed on the railing to take flight again, trusting his highly trained muscles and habit at throwing his garrote as a jump-line to keep him from becoming a street pancake.

He swung between fire escape for two whole minutes to muddle his visibility before going back up top on the easier road. He kept running and jumping and swinging at the fastest speed he could muster. A look over his shoulder revealed Robin to still be in pursuit, but lagging a bit more behind than he'd been before.

 

Catlad smirked again, reveling in the adrenaline rush of the high speed acrobatic pursuit over the rooftops. He could get now why Selina did it with Batman all the time. Feeling chased was such a trip!

 

He looked over his shoulder again. Robin was gaining on him again. Tim considered letting him, getting caught. Then he laughed and dove down to the streets again. He could make Damian work for it some more

He landed running, and sprinted down the road, not trying to be subtle about it, and just ducking left and right at ground level to make Damian have to actually peer down the alleys to even have a hope of catching up to him.

 

 

 

 

In the end, Tim had no idea how much longer he could have made Robin 'play tag' with him, or whether he would have been able to evade, or whether he'd have let himself get caught, because he sprinted into one of these street violence scenes Gotham was famous for.

 

There was no amount of 'done playing hero' that would have prevented Tim from jumping and landing both feet first into the face of one of the aggressor. And since there were more than one aggressors... Well, Robin caught up to him just in time to drop-kick the gang-banger who was trying to sneak up to Catlad.

 

Tim smirked, feeling at once elated at the fight, and so stupidly safe from having a trustworthy back-up.

 

The brawl was wrapped in a minute, at most, and Catlad turned to his heroic friend with one of his widest smiles. "Want to dance too?" He asked with a flirty wink.

 

Damian grinned back. His Robin grin was very... pointy. The fact that Tim found it so sexy was probably at least a bit worrying. He really couldn't bring himself to care. "Hmm. Tempting." Tim wasn't dreaming it. He was fairly sure Damian was preening. Yeah, he was preening. Just how cute could he get? "But I fear I will have to take a rain check on that, I have a more pressing engagement to attend to."

 

Tim followed his gaze to the two terrified teens huddled against the wall. So they were still here. He wasn't actually surprised by it, he had been at least peripherally aware of them, but they did look like they needed to be personally escorted back home by Robin after the big scare they'd been subjected to. Tim saw red when he noticed the smallest of the two was a girl. He had no reason to believe rape had been amongst the dangers they were facing, but Gotham had given him very little reasons to doubt these kind of things.

 

Catlad really wanted to kick the punks even through they were already down, but he breathed through the urge, and managed to put his game face back on. His smiled and deftly avoided the hand Damian tried to brush against his side. Mostly because it was the side he's put his loot on and he wouldn't put it past his young suitor to try and pickpocket them back under the guise of flirting. He didn't even putting it past himself to actually get more amused by it than anything else. "I guess I can forgive getting blown off if it's for such a company. Catch me another time, little bird."

 

Catlad leaped for the closest ladder and scrambled up. He turned around once he was out of easy reach and blew a kiss with another wink before he started climbing back to the rooftops to get back home.

He heard one of the kids breath an impressed sound at the displayed acrobatic, to which, of course, Damian answered with affirmative hum.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tim woke up, once again, to a Robin haunting his window and trying to break in. (He might, given a few weeks, but Tim's locks and alarms were custom-made by himself, based on his own unshared ideas so no conventional fiddlings should work.)

After his first instinctual fighting reaction had passed, Tim growled and scowled at his nightly visitor. Damian had the decency to look sheepish as he pulled a little gift-wrapped square from somewhere under his cape to show it.

 

Now, Tim had spent the evening celebrating Christmas Eve with Selina,as a matter of fact, she was sleeping next door in Tim's guest bedroom, (he didn't feel up to going to the manor for it, he had done an effort for Thanksgiving, twice in a little more than a month felt like more than he was capable in the domain of eating at the same table as Bruce without getting nasty,) so he knew it was Christmas, and he was actually a bit surprised that he hadn't foreseen that particular development.

 

He guessed he should be touched by Damian wanting to give his gift in the middle of the night rather than waiting until a reasonable hour in the morning. It was objectively pretty endearing, but he had still been woken up in the middle of the night, so he felt justified for opening the window, snatching the gift, then closing it back up in Damian's face.

Damian made a kicked puppy face from behind the glass, but stayed perched at the edge of the windowsill and Tim already knew he'd cave and let him in before the neighbors could see him. Still, he wasn't going to do so right away.

Damian recovered fast and pointed at the gift with his now usual smirk. Tim raised a brow at him but started undoing the wrapping to see what this urgent gift was.

 

The box was barely palm sized, and Tim seriously dreaded opening it for a few moments for fear it would contain a ring or anything of the sort. Then he decided Damian probably wouldn't try that quite so soon and opened the box.

 

It took him a moment to actually make sense of the item in the box, but lifting it up clarified that it was in fact an ear-cuff with a pendant attached. it looked like it had a couple of removable pins to secure it in place through the ear as long as it was already pierced.

 

It was nice, but compared to Damian's last gift, it seemed a lot less elaborate, though Tim guessed it would make sense for his young suitor to be afraid of giving out such meaningful gift anymore after Tim ran away because of the last one.

He glanced at Damian, who made a 'taking a photograph' gesture and pointed at his gift. Tim looked at the pendant again, and noticed that one side did look like a camera aperture and there were buttons along the edge of the pendant that looked a lot like... He pushed on the red one and the jewelry whirred to life.

 

Tim turned his back to the window to hide the emotions welling up.

 

A camera. A jewelry camera.

 

Damian had given him an earring that doubled as a camera.

 

Shit.

 

He swallowed, put his face back on, and went to open the window.

 

"Do you like it?" Damian smiled. "You should be able to put it on your Catlad ears too."

 

Tim yanked Robin forward by his cape and braced him as he tipped over to plant a kiss on his lips.

Damian did awkwardly keep the position of 'braced on the windowsill, tipped forward and kept from falling by Tim's strength' for the whole length of the kiss. The stiffness could be excused, Tim hadn't really thought that one though.

 

"Hum, do hop in." He tried awkwardly.

 

Damian smiled and climbed down from the sill. "So I take it you like it. I am glad."

 

...

...

 

Tim yanked him down again and planted another kiss up on Robin's lips rather than answering.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Damian hadn't tried to do anything romantic to keep wooing Tim for at least a week, and as soon as he'd noticed it and gotten over his resentment for actually missing it, he'd started worrying.

Damian had been very consistent with his small gestures of affections for the three months since Tim had allowed him to make them. He would have suspected the abrupt stop to be a ploy to get him to react and miss them, except he had good reason to believe there was something more going on too.

 

So, for once, he decided he'd be the one reaching out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took him a couple of days after he'd decided to engage the situation to actually manage to corner his elusive teen successor.

 

 

 

 

Damian glanced up at the sound of Tim landing on the roof.

For a moment, he wore the fiercest snarl, but then he recognized Catlad and his expression smoothed out into a much softer and more resigned one. Yet the visible affection lodged itself into Tim's heart like a shard, making him pause and want to run away for a moment. "Have I also made you worry, beloved?" Robin asked in a broken whisper, and Tim lost his ongoing fight against the care he naturally had for Damian and hardened himself up.

 

"Is it such a burden to have people caring for you?" Tim wondered aloud.

 

"I could ask you that." Damian huffed, apparently in a bad enough mood to start being bitter at Tim too. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it either, he'd spent a good chunk of his own time evading Damian and his affections. "How come it's now that I want to be left alone that you decide to seek me out?" He did sound much more sad than angry despite his words.

 

"That would be because I know you actually need my support now and didn't then." Tim smiled.

 

Damian pursed his lips, and narrowed his eyes, but he didn't actually deny the point, so Tim deemed it safe to come up to him.

 

He bent down in front of Damian and gently touched his fingers to the teen's cheek. "It's okay to feel hurt and jealous baby bat." He whispered. "It's okay if you don't want to share what you have with a youngest kid."

 

Damian sniffed and leaned his head into Tim's hand. "I shouldn't. I can't act selfish and spoiled. It's not their fault and I know it. I... I just."

 

"You just feel like you've been robbed of your uniqueness, and that is normal. That's even true, and as long as you refuse to acknowledge it, you won't be able to move past it." Tim shifted so he was able to glide his hand along Damian's cheek and around his neck, effectively pulling Robin into a hug. "Come on, I at least won't judge you. Mute your com and tell me exactly why you're angry and jealous. It will help you process it, if nothing else."

 

"I am not angry. It would be easier if I was, but I'm not. I can't resent Terry and Matt... it would be easier to resent G-Nightwing, but even then I can't."

 

Tim frowned at the codename, but they were on a rooftop and in costume, so really, it made sense. "Come home with me. We can talk about it over a cup of warm stuff." He tried to entice Damian.

 

"I'm on patrol."

 

"Do I have to steal something to make you follow me?"

 

Damian sighed and folded out of his Bat-huddle, called his intentions to go off patrol and with Catlad over the com and silently started for Tim's apartment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So? Reviews, critics, death threats? I AM one of these authors that write more when they get comments, just saying.


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